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 Apr 2015 Amber O'Connor
oni
how do you
bandage
the wound
if you
are not even
sure
where it is?
 Apr 2015 Amber O'Connor
Grizzo
Thirty years of monthly
payments for a roof,
garage, and backyard,

The house burns down
the day you pay
it off,

A brand new model,
heated seats, leather
wrapped steering wheel,
more speakers than
you can hear,
pride and joy,
taken from you
by some careless *******,
focused on "Me"
not focused on red
lights or stop
signs.

The frame is bent,
airbags deployed,
the insurance
writes you a check
and sends a form
apology with next
month's bill.

The newest clothes
aren't so new,
once they're washed
twice,

but we base our wealth
on fleeting things,
wood, status symbols
and cotton,

We pay ourselves
by saving money
already spent,
and paying old bills
so we can have new ones,

Wealth isn't tied to these
temporary things, easily
replaced by more
work and money

No

Wealth is created,
easily sustained,
by good night kisses,
road trips just because,
and matching shirts
for family pictures,
things that make us
remember how to be
happy,

because we are all temporary,
but our love is
not so easily
replaced.
So even if
you rent, or
you take
the bus
or you have clothes
in your closet for years

The time spent
with people you love
wil always cover
you until the
next paycheck
you've already spent
anyway.
NaPoWriMo #22, No prompt
We are writers and poets who know how to express
We can define our feelings a lot more or a lot less
Why were we cursed with the ability to feel?
The feelings of life that are so painfully real...

We can make music by writing what we desire
Turning simple paper into a passionate fire
We can sway hearts by symbolizing love and creation
Or break another's by turning words into death and temptation

We are the cursed race of scholars who turn words into weapons
We can draw blood with a phrase in a matter of seconds
We are dedicated authors with emotions so heavy
That one word from us that is read or heard can be deadly

Words are our weapons, our friends and our foes
Even a writer or poet has demons that only we know
Each line is a battle and each piece is a war
We are writers and poets and we will write forevermore
There a two things that control your life

Your Will

and

Your Attitude
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