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You started the game but I finished it.
It was full go from the start but I ended it.

It moved too fast and you lost the game.
I won. I’m the winner.

You used illegal moves.
Psychological warfare.

When I saw these moves I ended it.
I am the winner.

Now covered in psychological scars,
You’re just a distant memory.
I'm so tired of everything,
and everything is tired of me.
You showed me what
I needed in a relationship.
but You just couldn't give it.
You played me for so long,
but I just couldn't let go.
Why did You drag me along?
breaking Me numerous times.

I had to let You go.
I couldn't do it anymore.
I walked out of the door
and into the arms of Someone
who gave me everything they had.
Love and Stability.
#relationships #pastrelationship #love
Chelsea Evans Aug 18
she's blonde with
blue eyes.
she has men and women
wrapped around her little
finger.
she take everything she can.
yet she thinks she's cherry sweet.
Chelsea Evans Aug 18
Life is like a fast car.
One blink, then it's gone.
  Jul 25 Chelsea Evans
Merry
Dead end days
Spent by dead-end kids
Living on a dead-end street
Listening to a dead-end radio
Sing about dead-end dreams
That taste bittersweet on the dead-end tongues
Of these dead-end kids
It’s just another dead-end day
Doing dead-end deeds
In a dead-end world of grey

Dead-End Boy
Met Dead-End Girl
Born was a dead-end friendship
But the Dead-End Boy
Had dead-end feelings
For the Dead-End Girl
But the from the Dead-End Boy
The Dead-End Girl felt no joy
In a dead-end instant
Their dead-end friendship did die

Now the Dead-End Boy
Lives life unknown on a dead-end road
And the Dead-End Girl
Works a dead-end job
But in her dead-end head,
She’s singing dead-end lies
On a dead-end radio
Using her dead-end tongue so sweet
To talk about her dead-end dreams
And listening in, are dead-end kids
On a dead-end street
Their dead-end lives
Just some more dead-end deeds done
Just some more dead-end days
Done in a dead-end world forever in greys
Chelsea Evans Jul 25
Sat in a lecture theatre
with a high ceiling

It’s a new semester.
Another mastermind
teaching us.

He walks in with his
bag pack and fold-up bike.

His name is Tom.

Tom teaches poetry
to the first years.

“I hate poetry”
- Tom Herron

From that moment,
Everyone liked Tom.
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