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I've had enough
of the words of rhyme
Locked away behind
the bars of stanzas
doing time

All the hopes
and wanna be dreams . . .
Just more nightmares
with chilling screams

No I had it !
and I don't want anymore
I don't want someone knocking with words to implore

Go take your metre ,
Yellow pencils number four
I don't want to hear you
knocking on my door

You can go post
and share with the world
Shelly , Keats , Byron . . .
They all make me feel sterile

A sonnet for your bonnet
Haiku for beret
You can put a quill to it
Go have your good Shakespearean
day
And thee lord hath said
Write my child write
Spread thy soul across thee page
As oceans disperse thee earth
Feed thy hunger from within
And ye shall never know of thirst Write my child write.

Written by E.M.Rushton
All copyrights ©️Reserved by E.M.Rushton July 2019
“Emotions make people interesting.”

That made my world stop
Spinning.

I’ve controlled all I am
My whole life.

It’s been an internal monologue,
Don’t say too much,
Don’t laugh too much,
Don’t hurt too much,
Don’t let anyone completely in,
Don’t be vulnerable,
Don’t cry,
Don’t get too excited,
Don’t be angry.

Someone
Who
Could be okay with me
Being too much?
How?
What's ours yesterday,
Is gone today;
What's here today,
Will be gone tomorrow.
That how it goes
For joy and sorrow.
Balanced on a teeter-totter,
These highs and lows
Of our see-saw charter.
 Aug 2019 Terry Jordan
will
posing a bright smile
weeping and crying
the camera turns to me
it's another perfect alibi

whistling a poppy tune
dragging myself through
I turned up the volume
to drown the words out
I feel fake around people
some fragile mask
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