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Jack L Martin Sep 2018
There once was a man named Rick
Who carried a red blackthorn stick
He flailed it blatantly
that ancient shillelagh
The bataireacht fighter was quick!
Cat Fiske Sep 2015
I walked the streets,
wishing to hear from you today,
but I see the sad memories as the Adonis open up to cry and pray,
and I remember that I'm just going to slowly fade away,

I was to see a man holding Aster's,
who looked a whole lot like you,
I remembered how you said you loved me,
and then I saw the man pull out flowers as blue as your eyes,

a blue like Anemone for a women,
just as her and my face could show the fading hope,
how she remembered getting Apple Blossom's as a promise from you,
like you had promised to much to keep to me too,

you feel the Bittersweet in the Truth and patients and love you gave,
and you feel Blackthorns stab at you as if it isn't difficult enough,
to forget the pain,
and let the memories fade,

your on your way home,
and you see the bellworths all closed up as if hopelessness is dead,
and the Bittersweet Truth,
is trying to tell you look for the Bellflowers as if he sent you them,

but your heart will learn,
as you race home,
your heart will drop,
when you don't see hee wants to talk to you,

but when you see Butterfly Weeds on your doorstep,
as if he was trying to tell you,
Let Me Go,
when you wanted him to fly back,
Sad flowers to tell a tale about losing someone your good friends with, or just someone you love who doesn't wish to love you anymore.

— The End —