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They pulled me into darkness that night.
I had no reason to believe it wasn't light .
I had no reason to believe it wasn't right.

They told me that he loved me and I believed.
My friends, I called them such unknowingly.
I never thought I needed time to see.

They put me up in shackles that midday.
It was part of a game that we always used to play.
We'd all try to escape is what they'd say.

They went off on their separate ways to start.
All part of the play, I knew the part.
Magic was always at play in the dark.

They never knew how deep the game reached me.
Since they never really saw what I could see.
So I was quite already reaching my crazy.

They left me longer in the room that time.
The ramblings in my head began to rhyme,
As my feelings all began to disalign.

They all were soon through, and watching me.
Throwing stones and lines while on my knees.
Then they turned around regardless of my pleas.

They lied to say they ever really cared.
I cried for all the times I ever dared.
Never have I ever felt so scared.

But since that day, I now can see
Just how wrong I was to believe
That all it really was was just a dream.
Maybe they do it to drive me crazy
I don't know
But there are words constantly knocking on my skull, lining up, and begging to be chosen
I never choose wisely
I'm irrational
and sometimes I suspect I do it on purpose

I've never been one of those girls,
you know, one of those girls who looks happy
One of those people that are easily approached
I'm uninviting
Like a shack at the bottom of a dirt road
that's been boarded up
and the property line is covered in caution tape

My antiquated style has people baffled
My attitude turns people off
And when I actually try to be likable, I end up hating myself

If there was a direction to go, I'd take it
But every paved path is closed off for construction
And pretty soon, there won't be any direction at all
Just one place where we stand
and never move again
7:30PM, October 9, 2015, 65*F, 10mph breeze, 5% humidity (somehow 10% where I was sitting), 50.0001% chance of rain, dark, cold, late, loud...I think that's enough. Alright! Spoiler alert, Birkston High won the game. If you simply have ears you've known that for a while (many of us who were at the game don't). All the people in Grenfolkshire were there, so there were some empty bleachers, but the Student section was full and lively, and did I say loud, because LOUD....! My ears were ringing (at a B8 note, for the musically overcurious people) for three days straight. I think it was a healthcare tactic, dare I say it. All those figurehead townspeople were there as well, like Mayor Arnofold Plattersbury with his orange jumpsuit, waving a pompom in the air like he just didn't care. Really, he didn't-I got whacked in the head with it eleven times. Recently, after taking a recent poll on the recent event, it was found that only about 35% of people really knew what happened, a number that has declined, recently. This very well is contributed to 1.) most of the people are there for the free food and don't exactly major in football 2.) teenagers are highly social creatures 3.) a bunch of hands in the air and six foot tall mammoths standing on the bleachers will tend to block the view of the people who are five foot small. The freshmen had a real problem on their heads. Nevertheless, the Wildcats found themselves with the bell for another year, whether they knew it or not. The Panthers found themselves nose-in-the-dirt, tail-dragging, while we found ourselves filing out like a herd of wild penguins onto the field.
It's not really a poem...I'm sure you can see
  Jul 2015 Priscilla Leglette
Kits SM
I feel out of place
Out of place like a mushroom in a green salad
Like an all-male rendition of Cats on Broadway
Like Godzilla on Melrose Avenue
I feel like an adoptee in my own body
It's like "Hey! how long have you been here?"

My sentences are cut short whenever I try to speak because
Of all the train wreck shows that people could watch, I'm the one that's been off air for billions of years
That's what I lack
If I open my mouth
I sound like I'm from another planet
A stranger on this earth, in this land, in this city
And I can't forget my mother's words
"You'll fit in somewhere."
But the boat to ****** island already left, and I'm a bad swimmer

Let me feel at ease
Let even my whispers make sense
Let me touch someone without feeling like I'm burning them
Let me do my campaign of shock and awe like a living creature in a cabinet of curiosities

I feel out of place
Like the lightning that falls inches from the tree
Like a satellite thrown off the Earth's orbit
Out of place
Like a missing sock ****** for the rest of eternity
Like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, thank you Katy Perry

In my own skin
I feel too big and too small
All at once
This rock in space feels odd, like it's not home
But the mothership is long gone
And, what can I say
I guess I'm stuck here
-Clear skies. No pigs. (Sorry kid)
-Dry. No cats and dogs. (Sorry kid)
-Windy. 30mph gusts. (Sorry Gramps)
Part of my comical newsletters
There's a pit where my heart should be
And it'd **** me if you found out,
But I suppose there's no reason you could,
Not when the writing's this ugly.
I don't even have a doubt.

The marks that I got were accepted,
Except for the "two" in my scripting
"Untidy and dull. Short and fat,"
She wrote in perfect penman's art.
Well I didn't care too much for that.

And I watched them pass under the scope,
Fluttering dove feathers with delicate designs,
Learning what they meant, not what was drawn
In bronze or cream or scarlet masks,
Where all traces of blank spaces were gone.

But the mind learns what wasn't taught
And then the eyes can't help but see
The pretty slants of every letter and
The smooth curves between the words
That draw in the reader oh-so lustfully.

Without a care to what was written,
The mind befalls upon the neat,
Tidy, perfect, intricacy of handwriting.
And I could soon see for myself
That I lacked this very crucial feat.

And all my work became so obsolete.
My stories offered so much more, but THEY,
They had the notebooks with the colored cover.
The pages wrought to dust inside
But people tend to push that all away.

So my silken words in their ugly ink
Fell into the shelves without a trace.
All they wanted was to be seen
From inside, but now they're too ashamed
To begin the story with such a rotten face.
I feel so ugly, I can't even look in a mirror... I want a guy but how can anyone want me when this is what they see?!?! (A typo made me change "sullen" to "silken")
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