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by
Eliot
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Poems
Jun 2011
If only I could scream, just a little bit louder.
I’m living alive, so a lie is in order.
I’m tossing your worth in the form of a quarter.
My future will lie in the hands of reporters.
Altered quite favorably by the thoughts of supporters.
I’m living a lot, so much less is a blessing.
Perhaps I’m alive for these thoughts I’m assessing.
In the words of my poetry, for all I’m expressing.
Why is it the internet can be so depressing?
I’m living for love, so it’s life that I fall for.
I had no idea life could be such a tough chore.
And I had no clue that in searching for much more,
I would discover myself all alone and so dirt poor.
But it’s silly to see what is when it isn’t.
From within my mind brand new thoughts have arisen.
All these labels have taken my mind to a prison.
But what seems to rule this world is just fiction.
Or unjust is probably a better description;
As I look to escape old depictions restrictions.
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