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 Jun 2016 Michaela
Alexis Walkes
Much like poetry she's a mediator for emotion.
She manages to escape many things but herself,
Trapped in becoming everything society wants her to be
She secretly begs for the attention of a talent that would allow her to just be.

Be someone, anyone that matters.
But she's ashamed
Her eyes are filled with sin,
Her heart lust,
Her mind wonder.

Slowly falling in love with pain.
Slowly being drowned in her addiction to the darkness.
She wonders if its worth it.
She wonders if it makes her more poetic.
Black is poetry.
Alexis W
 Jun 2016 Michaela
axr
guns
 Jun 2016 Michaela
axr
another bullet fired
another one killed
how am i supposed to react?
do i write a speech on gun control? do i condemn a gunman's actions i could never fathom?
should i think of the ones who won't live to see another day?

another gun loaded
another life scarred
let me write a Facebook post about the victim
let me take a deep breath and articulate my feelings
and wonder why a young woman who was living her dream have to die in front of her brother and fans
this is about christina grimmie, a few hours ago, she was shot and killed at her own concert. the shooter then killed himself on the spot. (no comments on gun control whatsoever . im not american, guns are banned in my country and i just dont want to get into talking about that stuff)
A few months I haven't called him

At the beck and call at any hour
And the shortest notice
A dial to him has saved many an emergency

Last night a broken female voice
On the other side of the wire
Mumbled he died on May 13

Left her with three daughters
At forty at short notice

The plumber is dead

Now who would clear
My choked wash basin

The plumber is dead
And I've no other number to call

I couldn't see her face
Gauge the faceless sorrow
At the other side of the wire

The plumber is dead

I must find another
And then rejoice
Forgetting the widow's choked voice
If your head is your home
Then your eyes are boarded windows.
If your mouth is the door
Then it's been locked for sure.
If your voice is a song
It's been on repeat for too long.
If your words are a work of art
Then you're an abstract painting.

If your plans are a mountain
It towers high above the clouds.
I shouldn't get involved.
I'd climb half way up just to fall.
I've seen others who try.
They had no chance to survive.
When someone gets too close
The wind just blows and blows.
 Dec 2015 Michaela
Dana Colgan
It follows you around
the unwanted shadow.
Pulling you to the ground
the unwanted shadow.
 Dec 2015 Michaela
Dana Colgan
An overgrown pathway she takes,
A smile plastered on her face, so fake.
Deeper down does detail disquieting doubt.
As she stumbles and searches for a sign of the way out.

Entwined in thorns she now becomes,
As the overgrown pathway, the night succumbs.
Hovering hornets the only sound,
Pretending to enjoy the escapade, how profound.

A shattering noise halts her stride,
But the tranquil look stays in place, what pride.
How foolish a girl to continue on,
How foolish a girl to act as though nothing is wrong.
 Jul 2015 Michaela
C Davis
You were always on the top shelf and I

Was not allowed to use the step stool.

Gazing at you longingly, I've

Embarrassed myself in my desperation.


You drop crumbs for me still.
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