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Breeze-Mist May 2017
People say fight club couldn't exist
That fighting like that wouldn't go missed
But I have contrary evidence, for those who seek
The second week of school has been nicknamed fight week
There were four filmed fights (and possibly others) within a span of five days, and school police officers had to break them all up.
Breeze-Mist May 2017
For all of my coastie dad's wisdom
My summers spent learning to sail
My affinity for swimming since I was three
The countless snorkeling trips
The hours spent in canoes and kayaks
The trips paddle boarding and whitewater rafting
Somehow
I'm still petrified
By the rushing numbered current
Of a digital stream
  May 2017 Breeze-Mist
Born
I want to inspire people
I want someone to look at me and say
"because of you i didn't give up"
Breeze-Mist May 2017
Like a wolf in the night
Or a deer in it's flight
Or a swallow on favoring winds
Travel swift to the end
Make new choices to send
To the spirits that lurk within

And though we are young
Stories quickly begun
Whirling around the windowless compound
So some block it out
Some start to pout
And some go insane when no one's around

So come out in the day
In this place cast away
Do not believe long held lies
Then finally, we'll see
Between you and me
What the truth is in the gentry's eyes
Breeze-Mist May 2017
I wonder what the dinosaurs thought
When the asteroid fell and wrought
Destruction and chaos
For fate may befall us
In a century, we too could be caught
I just saw the second news article this week (first was Washington Post) saying that if humanity doesn't get the planet together or colonize another planet in 100 years, we're extinct.
Breeze-Mist May 2017
Do you ever drive
By a city or town in the dead of night
And wonder
About the people within?

How many are in debt from school?
How many have gone to bed with the love of their life?
How many are trying to hide family troubles behind locked doors?
Is the world's next Einstein in there?
Hollywood's next rising star?
How many go to bed afraid of coming out to their friends?
How many have some buds they'd die for in that town?
How many struggle day in and out, fleeing from a substance?
How many go through a routine each day, afraid to do more but afraid of leaving their path?
How many jot down ideas for that play they want to write on a napkin?
Is there a future president in there?
A poet of unparalleled verse?

How many people
Go from day to day in that city
Thinking they're alone in their problems
While surrounded by people who also think that?

What's going on
In those unlit houses of the city
Where the human mind resides?

Who's there?
Thoughts from a 4am bus ride in Georgia.
Breeze-Mist May 2017
Why on earth did you
Give the highest lockers to
Two of the short girls
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