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how do you stand it?
to be not known or understood by all who surround you
i imagine it's like living in a cage, and not a single one of them realizing you are trapped
©rainecooper
In the world of music
I was a record
And she was a song ******.
But even though I sang about all the things she was addicted to
I just wasn't her genre.
It's been a while
I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.
Can only sad people write good poems? Can only broken people find inspiration in anything?
I am the Poet, hear my siren’s song
My woven whispers ****** ways and words
Mesmerizing, you will feel you belong
Be part of an inner circle and be heard

Write with me, no lines will be false or blurred
Together we will create and be strong
There’s no need for pleasure to be deferred
I am the Poet, hear my siren’s song

I have been sad and alone way too long
Belonging together is most preferred
Creating brings joy, won’t you come along?
My woven whispers ****** ways and words

Take a chance and your senses will be stirred
Part of our circle, not lost in the throng
We are more together, grace is conferred
Mesmerizing, you will feel you belong

All ideas are welcomed, no thought is wrong
Just know this; your spirit won’t be interred
May our venture be successful and long
Be part of an inner circle and be heard
I am the Poet

krs
July 21, 2015
something new and different
Oh green I sing, of wings and birds across blue morning sky
with summer sounds, willows round the floating pond
dipping gently by.

Warm winds play music soft
through leaves and reeds they sing
gathering in the transient breeze.

All the day I rest my head
breathe sweet the flowering fields
and never shall I leave this place
nor want for any sweeter heaven.
Our fears are a jail but our dreams are the key to open that jail.
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