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You can only imagine
How it feels
How the oxygen
Leaves the room
Just before you
Are consumed
By heat, so intense
You cease to exist
And turn to ash
In it's presence
But you can never know
How it feels
The last breath
In a black lung
Until you burn
Only then,
Can you speak of fire.
If you could only be
the places I have been.
If only you could see
the horrors I have seen.

If you had felt their wrath,
that many of us feel
you would never laugh.
You'd then know it was real.

If you had been regressed.
Repressed by all their charms.
Woe of this tempest.
Tormented with alarms.

If you could realise,
if we were safe at home
we never would up-rise,
no reason then to roam.

If things were not as now
my homeland is were I would.
The fields we would plough,
our life could be so good.

Until this comes to pass,
alas, this cannot be,
we exit here en-masse
in order to be free.

These words you would express
if you were in my place.
If all you had was less
would you not join this race?

So you might comprehend,
note, I have nothing to lose.
So please don’t condescend
just walk a mile in my shoes.
Poem 3 from the Long Road series.
16th August 2011
My mind is in a spin!
Thoughts take shape inside.
Characters and Scenes
are pouring from my scribe.

Imagination strikes.
Words just start to flow.
I wait to see just where
this stories going to go.

Will it be suspense,
as horror's do protrude?
Will ****** come to pass
before the interlude?

Or could it be Amour?
Two hearts that beat as one,
with him and her in love
how smoothly will it run?

It might be fantasy
with creature filled with flight
where heroes of the day
defeat those of the night.

Comedy is fun,
with such a laughing spree
as wild jokes escalate
with witty repartee.

Or maybe espionage,
will we produce a spy?
Who rather than fail his mission
would be prepared to die.

Perhaps a child's fable
with a fierce leprechaun
who tries to steel a babe
that's only just been born.

An epic would be good,
one like War and Peace.
People could read for years
after its release.

I wonder what these thoughts
and self examination
shall bring from deep within
my own imagination
!7th December 2012
Knock Knock Jokes Aren't funny when There's nobody there.
Actually, Nothing is funny when no one's there to care.
when your sense of humor washes down the drain.
there's nothing left to feel but numbness and pain.
I'ts been an eternity since the landscape of my face has had this much rain.
My cheeks have been so dry.
I was self-taught not to cry.
I'm understanding now, why a drought was called The Great Depression.
Depression, Not a direction I want to go.
But you wouldn't know I'm there.
That's how it works, Depression.
You know, it goes so much deeper than a ****** expression.
It's not so much easy to hide it , as it is you get good at it.
But no matter how long-lived the drought,
What I would be more worried about,
Is the ground being so dry it's lost the ability to absorb the rain.
Have you ever seen it rain after a dry-spell?
the raindrops plop to the ground and swell on the surface, not soaking in.
I don't know where to begin,
They told me I'd feel better if I cried and "let it out"
But, I think they know, it  takes more than that to end a drought.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
They have been called sharp,
cutting you deep.
Bring you to tears,
or pushing back all your fears.
They can break your heart,
or make it fly.
Simple WORDS
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