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Brooklyn 23h
I donโ€™t want to stand, but I donโ€™t want to sit.
Itโ€™s like lifeโ€™s lost its meaning, my flames been unlit.
Iโ€™m boring now, and I never know what to do.
I want to be active, but I wonโ€™t even move.
I try to think, but hate my thoughts.
Thereโ€™s so much I must do, but im too tired to even talk.
I want to get up, but wonโ€™t.
Itโ€™s like my battery is all run out,
and now Iโ€™m left with a broken soul.
I always feel soโ€ฆ
Empty.
Useless.
Bored.
I no longer have purpose, Iโ€™m just so done.
I guess lifeโ€™s chewed me up and spit me out.
Thatโ€™s just what happens.
But now what do I do?
Because I really donโ€™t want to sit here any longer,
and Iโ€™m just not in mood to stand to.
you know what's fun?
roast people using poetry
no pun intended, no revenge included
just pure wordplay
I like how they boil their blood at me
you deserve it,
I could only care less.
I could do so much more
It was like my mind was an abyss of words that cannot stop overflowing like a waterfall
and my ideas keep on coming nonstop.
I love to roast the people I hate, especially my enemy,

And you cannot stop me

(Written in diabolical red ink)
V3NUS 1d
i'm the oldest daughter
that means getting love and validation from my family is transactional

my mother is proud of me
she thinks i'm an amazingly talented person
until my grades drop
now i'm sad

my father loves me
he calls me his twin
until i start acting my age
now im weird

my sister looks up to me
she wants to be just like me
until i try to be myself
now im embarrassing her

my other sister likes to be around me
i'm her best friend
until i stand up to her
now im a bully

i'm the oldest daughter
i'm the greatest person in the world
until i'm not
i found out what oldest daughter syndrome is and now everything makes sense
THE AIR CRACKLED LIKE POOFTAS ON DOPE when Sharon
and Sonny conceived a baby on the back porch of their palace
in London. They were rich people who knew how to use a
back porch as outlined in Clem North's 1965 book, ๐˜๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ
๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข ๐˜ž๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜—๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜‰๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜—๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ.
I died a thousand tiny deaths,
buried in doubt, shoveled under shame,
but now I rise,
my only burden, the pressure of becoming,
and the poundage of resurrection.
Digging through the scraps,
the discarded refuse, the forgotten waste,
finding bits of tin
that could be reshaped into stars.
I held the heat of them close,
let it melt the lead of my bones,
gathered up the pieces of me
they'd said were better kept in canopic jars,
forged them together until the plumbum
began to shine with gilt.
Now I no longer tire of pushing
the light across the sky.
Even the smallest, quietest soul
can carry the sun.
JOHN BOUGHT SEVERAL THOUSAND REAL ESTATE AGENT CONDOMS after meeting Patty because she didn't want to get pregnant. "Here, put this on and I won't have a baby," she told him even though he hated her so much that it made his left ******* burn like a volcano does before killing a million Hawaiians when they least expect it.

BEYOND THE SOUTHERN WALL OF ICE IS: somewhere to go; somewhere else; somewhere where men are men and women are too: flopping around, growing out their hair, wearing enormous condoms.
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