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Words came out like a half miles of unheard words to the English language. The real reason she was so unheard of was because like her she was such a rare sight. But she's not the kind of art presented in some studio. She's the kind of art thats scribbled on side of buses, train carts, and on top of buildings because she was all I wanted to present to the world the true raw beauty of her. As if she wasn't already wanted for stealing my heart she was wanted for being scribbled upon the walls. It soon she would disappear as if she never existed until she bcame scribbled with cans upon the walls of the city thousand times more in many forms.
Written to the girl who loves art so much she became it.
Gabriel burnS Jun 2017
writing like

- a grocery list of metaphors

- for a cooking recipe instruction

- or some kind of

- shipping manifesto;

- let your deductive mind

- interpret its own flow

- since that's the one thing

- we don't naturally grow

- but if you put too much spice in that dish

- bear in mind

(x) it’s best served cold
Wyatt May 2017
I'm drawing myself out
on the paper for you all to see.
What can you make out of it?
Nothing? There's no surprise,
you know we're all a mess
scribbled down
on crumpled paper.
This mess is my life, the perfect illustration about an imperfect subject.
Shawn Callahan Mar 2015
Etches on a page
Scribbled next to  history
on blue-lined red margined paper.
Just a doodle; an unconscious thought
forgotten at the bottom of a trash bin.

I'm the distraction used in sleepy situations.
Not enough beauty to be focused on
Only a compliment to your already perfect complexion.
Always supporting. Never supported.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Q Dec 2014
bewildered that this text
this forgotten scribe
uplifts the feelings
i try so hard to bury inside

this scribbled stanza
relieves pressure and pain
slowly allowing me to
stop reliving the shame

words once read
in black and white
submerged in emotions
high, light, and bright

letting your painted face
in my memory vault fade
ebbing in the distance
while these words continue to invade

funny is that our feelings exist
so playful and irrational
yet followed zealously
feels greater than feels, professional

*s.q.

— The End —