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The World's Waters Stagnant; Blackend With Hate,
The Clouds Grey, Shedding Salt Filled Tears,
The Wind Whistles The Songs That Captives Sing,
As The River Cools The Fugitives Burning Feet,
Though Polluted It Glitters Beneath The Sun,
Which Sits In The Polluted Sky,
The Still Sane Sun Reflects Off The Traumaed Eye,
Turning It's Tears Into Liquid Gold,
Though To The Money Hungry Ruler,
They Are Not Worth A Thing
A reminder
this morning
of scheme forgotten..
covering one's eyes
(children know)
on occasions needing
sudden escape..
into that closet
or deep cellar..
quick trip away
a moment
enough for
laughing recovery..
for the Advanced
in their journey
finding a glow
all is together
in that concealed
instant flash...
The perfect child I used to be went to play one day.
she went down this road so very slow,
and ran into a tree.
She woke up later in a strangers house
sitting by the christmas tree.
Oh the fire, Oh the horror, oh what happened to me.?
The pretty little dress around her waist Didn't cover much
Just the nessesities.
her hands were bound behind her back
oh what happened to me?
Just then a man came to her.
  "oh darling Don't worry, Don't worry I am not that mean."
he said oh so quietly. to me.
he gave me some water and I fell asleep
I wake to him ******* me Oh, what happened to me?
I couldn't see
I couldn't move
I could only feal what was happening to me
Hours it felt so painful to me, My heart was broken in three.
my body went numb so slowly I could't breath,
Slowly so, so slowly something trickled down me,
Oh. whats happening to me?.
Just when I thaught it couldn't get worse he whispered so quietly to me.
"I've opened your'e eyes so look close although you have none have fun with my son"
and he left me with his son ,
he hit me. he bit me. and oh so more
                  Then I heard a click and he cut me so very slowly
                   all over me he slid the knife, Intill everything went black and I died.
written   by  savannah    rawdon  just  turned   *twelve
 May 2013 Andrew P Marheine
Ugo
Night is for the hours
Cowards,
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers

It's been said napkins are the greatest currency
For it holds the food spittle of man
Like how ambulances sit waiting
To clean up after misfortunes
And make fortunes for the fortun-
Who Ate paragraphs of spider webs
And patted weaves like black men seating at the back of the limited luxurious Q46 bus nodding heads to the noise of Toyota cameras they couldn't afford in the land where they spend $300 million to part the seas for summer entertainment
While they only spent $40 on California cuteness and walked on water with 13 Jesus' and ate at the bottom of the sea with only three tokes from the plastic bag

Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
For we graduated from 30 hot nights of mathematics
Only to find that the future will always be white and in the *******
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