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In the night, the demons flee
Turned on the light, are they sacrificing me?
A smile, a shiver, corpses thrown in the river
Was it misfortune or good intent?
The demons stay, they are reluctant

The stars are shining, fire is burning,
The demons arise and the tables are turning
A demonic force awakens the mind
Of a thing which came from another kind

The last steep, running on time,
They'll show up when it is over nine
When I awaken,
Is the universe forsaken?
The tables are turning and the chances are taken.
my back hurts and has been hurting
for a really long time now

it's not just an ache when i bend over
or when i stand too long

it's constant, reminding me its always
present with its constant throbbing

each disk of my spinal cord feels like
its carrying all my weight on it

but i think they are carrying much more
than my own body on them

my bones are carrying you
but it's not actually you

it's the old you
the memories of you

a genuinely happy you
the one i met back then

the one i began to fell in love with
but you seemed so distant

even though you spent every waking
moment with me, and only me

we were distant, and then you told me
you loved me, and wished i felt the same

flustered i told you i loved you,
i had from the start

we dated for less than a week
but i carry you in my body

every loving memory of you
of past you

in between my bones you sit,
closer to me than you are now

and sometimes i still think that
i love you, but i don't want to.
when the outline
of your lips
brushed against
mine,

it molded perfectly
like its sole purpose
was to be with each other.

but when i was left
with nothing but the cold
and harsh breeze of november,

your kiss left me
writhing in pain,
bruises marked my skin,
a gamut of unfortunate events;

it was a
kiss from death.
i hope he kisses you not
december twenty-seven,
your name still rings
from the atrophy
you had bestowed upon me.

how reckless,
the way i love with
trembling fingers
guiding you to every
isolated destinations
withering through every touch.

i could not speak,

for your eyes
spoke of the
inaudible string of utterance
i could not quite decipher.

december twenty-seven
how forlorn,
the way you left me
without an explanation.
thus, i hated the twenty-seventh.
a black woman
she was tired of racism
when people
raising voice against
but
she did by sitting
why?
She was standing inside her
a time to sit in white seat
to show her tiredness..
First in world
a revolution Coz
of sitting...
So
her people can stand proud..
My heroine Mrs Rosa Park
The beast and the trainer roamed around
The stage where lights and people abound
The crowd cheered as they each gain, for the beast: respect, for the trainer: fame.

The beast and the trainer, both actors they were,
And the world was astonished as they watched and stared
"Look! The trainer is better than before!"
Everyone loved the trainer more.

For the trainer could do what he wanted to do,
And the beast just followed through and through
They mocked the beast up to their heart's delight
So the beast turned his back away from their sight.

And the beast walked away in shame,
For he was tired of people calling him names,
"What they don't know..." he said quietly,
"Is that I surrendered and sacrified willfully."

For the beast loved the trainer after all,
Tis' the reason why he gave his all.
In every relationship, one will get the glory while the other will sacrifice.
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