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At five, A prisoner of his own home.
At fifteen, A prisoner of his own mind.
At seventeen, imprisoned. Because the world's not always kind.
Born to be a prisoner.

"how sinister.
you know they don't have feelings.
"
give them nothing extracurricular.

Then we'll put them in a rubber room,
when they start talking to their ceilings.

Tell them, they can not touch their visitor.
Tell them, this will teach them to be a better listener.

Forced, to give them free food so you make it taste like vinegar.
make them feel worthless because they're a Criminal
A Prisoner.

"You may not touch your Visitor"
You may not hold your baby sister"

We'll give you cable and free meals.
Just not at your family table.
No one cares how the young man feels.
He's a criminal.
A prisoner.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
He said I had Pretty, Blue eyes like his.
So I shut my eyes real tight.
I never wanted that Monster's eyes.
My eyes are my own, right?
he wore a disguise of a Man, But he's an impostor.
all he'll ever be is a Monster,
at least in the eyes of who he dare call his "daughter"
The Blue eyed monster lay on my bed not under.
I yelled out so fearfully loud, that It's no wonder I'm afraid of thunder.
And, ever since I've been begging my eyes to change their color.

I knew my life was a little rough.
But I always had just enough.
And there was never anyone to be jealous of.
But, I heard Jealousy being called The Green Eyed Monster.
Green's better than blue.
Green's so much better than the thought of you.
So, I asked Jealousy to consume me.
Invited the Green Eyed Monster in the room with me.
and asked it to plant some Jealousy to bloom in me.
Can you make it into a perfume then spray it on me?
I wanted jealousy to live in me.
But now, that isn't who I wanna be.
And I'm no longer Jealous that you get to keep the family.
They took your side, but they were better off without me.
Never looked back, but they woulda found out something about me.
Something to ponder,
my eyes are pretty, Green sometimes, sometimes Blue, but not like you.
Because I'm not a monster

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
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
She thinks the leaves will change just for her, If for long enough she stares.
believes, She's in the Praying Mantis's constant prayers.
Thinks the sun doesn't really shine 'till she takes a look outside.
believes that fireflies only light up to impress her.
Somehow, she Believes all of this, And still thinks she's of the lesser.
She tells her secrets to the Trees and doesn't care how she looks.
tells her fears to the fish, as she frees them from their hooks.
And to the Praying Mantis, She tells her past,
hoping, it will pray for her future to take a smoother path.
Her Future.
It couldn't come any sooner.
But it's of it, she's terrified.
Confined, to the present time,
She's a prisoner of her own mind.
Scared, of the unknown.
Inside, She's still a little girl, But oh, how fast her body's grown.
She thinks Nature is the only thing on her side, And her enemy is time.
She's already sick of this roller coaster called life.
But hasn't lived near many enough days.
She says,
Praying Mantis, Should I close my eyes the wrest of the ride?
No answer, Yet silently he prays.


© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
I might as well have fallen in love with the man in the moon.
He still wouldn't be as distant as you.
and He'll never show me his dark side.
Don't get me wrong, I fell in love with that part of you too.
But once you showed me your dark side the light in your eyes died.
and maybe I died a little inside too.
I'd have been better off falling in love with the man in the moon.
Like the wolf, I could cry to him all night.
Because I know he'll leave me once it's daylight.
Sound familiar?
Are you seeing things any clearer?
I'd rather have fallen in love with the man in the moon.
But I just can't, because he's not you.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
When I asked you to fix me,
You told me I wasn't broken.
But, let this soak in.
I just wanted to know,
If i was still a pretty enough picture to be worth, agonizing over a puzzle.
Even when it's a struggle.
And you have to nuzzle each piece into place,
Kissing the pieces bent out of shape,
Searching for pieces gone missing,
But you can't make a raisin back into a grape.
Yes, I Remember your middle name
And who says we can't celebrate failure?
Don't be sad, we tried, we tried.
When you write your story in the sand it washes away with the tide.
It isn't our fault.
We may have cut ourselves open, But we didn't ask for the salt in our
wounds
Can I still say "we"?
I guess you're kind of done with me.
I don't blame you, Puzzles are frustrating.
they're a tease.
Please, tell me I haven't lost the most important piece.
Tell me I haven't lost
you.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
 Aug 2014 Jewal Myors
Mike Hauser
Love is a field
Where the wild flowers grow
If this were show and tell
Maybe then you would know
Where the seeds are sown

On our window seal
Sits the vase of flowers picked
Loves fragrance is in the air
We haven't lost sight of that gift
At least not yet

Though the flowers may wilt
And appear to die over time
Love can not be killed
Once it's made it's way
Into our hearts and minds

Let's take yesterdays yield
And plant them beside the rivers flow
We will harvest what we till
From out loves field
Where the wildflowers grow
 Aug 2014 Jewal Myors
Mike Hauser
If we were to send our astronauts

To Uranus for a flight

Which would be proper, while they're there

Or on their way back that they should wipe
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