My aim today
Is simply to
Make you smile
It's what I do
As you sit
Behind your desk
Take a moment
To digest
This little rhyme
It's sent with love
To wrap you up
Just like a glove
Your day's mundane
Your job's a bore
But soon you'll walk
Out of the door
Into the sun
Where lovers kiss
Under the trees
And you'll feel bliss
But if all else fails
I hope with grace
I've put a smile
Upon your face!

(C) Pixievic

Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Run...Now
Don’t...stop
Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Dreams
Long ago, there was a little black boy with a dream
A dream to one day be free of all the chaos in society
Long ago, there was a little white boy who held a gun up to his head
All because he became fed up with the injustices that trapped him within his own body
They were eight
Since when did the playground for eight year olds become the life that not even us adults wish to live
Since when did eight year olds cry so many crimson tears that they form a river big enough to swim in
Better yet, drown in
Back then this was unheard of
Back then it was war against color
You know those as white as snow against those as black as dirt
Now it is just pure ignorance
You know black lives, white lives, all lives matter
WELL ***** THAT!
The children’s lives are what matter
You know the future of our very existence on this earth
But it seems no one really notice that the children are suffering from our stupidity
Which leaves only one question
Does anybody really care
Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Say goodbye...to the dreams...that have been lost

The same person that broke you
**can't fix you

iknowiknowiknow
you are just  _ that _ ache
that hurt. that. will. not.
go.
》》》》away
LEss of an op^en^ wou^^^^nd than 108
,...days a _ go
}whenthe15thofNovember}} was my
fa ~vor~ite~
MorE than a purple bruise
₩hat was there//somethingaboutme; you thought. you. could. use.
[until _ you _ did _ n't]
my blind can't help me now
you seeped into^ these^ bones
&itjustwon;'t;leave
me
a
[lone]

i wish people still wrote letters,

i wish we still penned down our thoughts,
so that your tear stains could guide me to your heart
and the coffee or wine stains to those sleepless nights

so that the scent of the sheet could tell me
what perfume was your new favourite
and your lazy handwriting showed how tired you were

theres so much more of you on paper,
and theres so much of you i miss.