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 Jun 2016 Megan Nixon
Molly Nixon
This beat's got some heat,
The sound of elite
Then a rhythm so discreet
Love in a sound, brings you to your feet
Feel the bass pound
Then something's been found
The wings to your heart as they stretch out
You wonder if such a feeling's allowed
Oh, the sound! It's the best
Your heart soars out of your chest and you feel the momentum
You hear the words and know who wrote them, meant them
These are the moments where you love how you spent them
And much like the way a firework burns
The moment is gone and your heart returns
You may forget the wonderful color
But remember the sound as you've heard no other
Another night in Paris,
but different than the ones before.
Left with love to conquer,
the terror knocking on the door.
I hope this won't discourage,
Liberty, where it was born.
For hatred is an energy
not within,
when we are born.
It's harnessed by a twisted way.
A path, that lost souls
sometimes take.
Lambs brought to the slaughter.
Brainwashed, to the point of hate.
Where every single drop of blood,
is washed away
with so called faith.
Yet I pray for all the victims,
not to a God that will dictate
I pray to what's within us all,
The love that is the only way.
A prayer to **** the hatred.
A guiding light
to show the way.
 Nov 2015 Megan Nixon
Isaac Peña
This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.
 Nov 2015 Megan Nixon
Molly Nixon
It's another one of those nights
anxiety reaches new heights.
Pound back the bottle and try not to start fights.
Split the blunt, if you don't roll it, I might.
Hold me tight
Remind me what it's like
to feel right
I've lost sight
of where I'm going
The hardest part is not knowing
I wipe off the mascara,
though my pain is still showing
But no one is there and no one really cares.
I'll just pack up and go somewhere.
One of those poems where you're just all in the feels.
 Nov 2015 Megan Nixon
Molly Nixon
I warned you, son.
"Don't break her heart."
Now you think about that while I rip you apart.

I don't know what it is you seek,
but my sister is out of your league.
Failed to see how lucky you were.
Did not heed my warning when you texted her

What kind of ***** breaks up via texting?
The same little ***** that thinks bussing is flexing.
She'll move onto better, just for a toy.
She won't wait long for a mere busboy.

I could go on forever about things that you lack.
Like, interest, money, a life, a six-pack.
You'll never be good enough for my little sister,
but I hope she's moved on when you realize you've missed her.
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