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 Nov 2013 Sean Antonio Tyson
Lucy
I am creative in a way I cannot prove. It is unacceptable to approach a stranger and declare:
“I lay awake at night, almost always.
I take the burden of the universe upon my shoulders each evening before I can sleep and when I awake it is still there.
I want to grasp ahold of life and shake out its secrets but grasping anything is for me impossible.
I understand too much and talk too much and believe too much.
I am socially awkward and have a hard time responding to things.
I overanalyze and speculate.
I care very deeply about many things.
I cry much too easily.
I want love so badly I can’t breathe sometimes.
I want someone to peer into me and see my messy contents and be okay with it.
People have described me as coolheaded but inside I am enraged and inarticulate.
I cannot explain my exact feelings in words, so I peck at the keys and hope that a story emerges.
I am embarking on a brand new adventure and I am terrified.”
They would run from me in fear, if I said such things.
Married people always tease
Their singled-out single friends
Oh yes! They are bully!
I'm a victim.

Then,
I started to ask so many questions
Should I lower my standards?
Should I ask for a date?
That is so desperate.

And,
A guy will come your way
Knocking to your sleepless heart
Asking for your time.

Did I say that I already opened it?
I was about to say that it was already locked.
I had given him a chance,
Chances!
But the spark already faded.

Okay, let me try once more
Maybe meeting him will help
But I'm really in doubt
Because the boy next door
Already made a bang!
I used to stand, a little girl,
In the face of the mighty River,
And try my luck against the current,
Till my thin frame would shiver.
The River was a muscled god
Of milky Grecian marble,
Who'd swallow up the flotsam,
While the safer songbirds warbled.
My mother told me "stay away,
The River, he is hungry,
He'll twist you round and break your bones
And take your sweet self from me."
And, from then on, I'd heed her word,
And steer clear of the River,
Or throw in sticks to harm it,
Vainly, watch them be devoured.
And sometimes, when the rain came down
For long days at a time,
The River would rise from his bed,
To drown all that was mine.
So he got many over on me,
And I, nothing on him.
The River was so sly, you see,
The Devil, just too slim.
And then I grew up proud
And beautiful, and moved away,
To a moneyed place in the northern states,
Where the River stayed away.
But I met a man just like that Body
Rolling, roiling, wild,
That took and drowned all I did have
And left me with a child.
And my mother took me in again,
And told me just the same,
To shun the River, guard myself,
A man's worse than his name.
I took to daring, once again,
That arctic current down,
I'd dip my toes in evening time,
And smooth my forehead's frown.
I'd talk to him, my belly swole,
Confide in the River wild,
I prayed to God in the water's hearing,
That I did not need the child.
The River told me he would help,
That I could use his ways,
For he wanted only sacrifice,
And I wanted not the blame.
So I waded in, the hands of water
Cupped beneath my thighs,
And the River's water turned blood red,
And my eyes rolled to the sky.
Now I live alone again.
Playing mother was not my lot.
The River took my baby in,
Because my arms could not.
I had such conviction, such passion
But it all came from hate
A man of words, not action
More about stuffing my face
I laid still and died once
Just running from fate
I fell over and cried once
Just to change up the pace
This boredom is numbing
And numbness is boring
I'll soon start to slumber
Or maybe start *******
Pitter patter, the lone raindrop
And it doesn't give one ****
If only I was a raindrop
If only I had such luck.
A grey and black world
is a boy's best friend
No cares or worries
Until boyhood ends
A world of color
Is all a man wants
When all he can have
is grey and black haunts
I'm a real work of Art
The first of my kind
A man without substance
An echo for a mind
Just sizzle, no steak
and no greater wish
than to be still, not quake
And swim like a fish
A thrown away writing
1st Draft, Maybe Last
A poor piece of rhyming
Burned up, gone fast
The last thought given
and the worst one yet
It's me you speak of
Melancholy's 1st pet
Ideas Rampant; Lies Abound
I am Satan's Favorite Hound
Kicked and Beaten; Shaved and Sheared
Nothing knowing but what is feared

Born with blood instead of Soul
I was first to dig the hole
Churning lies to spread on bread
My small voice makes smiles dead
Is this Boredom?
Or merely Insanity?
Can you find me,
Or is that in Vanity?
Tomorrow won't come again
But Today will be forever
The future isn't mine to have
It's only yours to treasure.
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