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Broke her piggy bank

Sold her shells to the sea

Lied to the believers

Sat on the stars and looked below

to see the street lights twinkling the brightest
I daren't call myself a poet,
and I daren't call the words
I haplessly string together
*poetry.
 Sep 2015 Tomas Denson
Kripi
I have a hope
To rise and shine
To go divine
I know I can
I feel I can

But I am here
In cry and pain
Because I am in a cage
Of fear and the place
Where I live


I see the world
Which travels up to the moon
But I am here waiting for a boon

I wish to become the one Titled
Just give me a chance
Let me fly
Let me dance


I don't know why they tight me
In the ropes of their rituals
I want to be the star
I want to be intellectual

I wish to get titled
Let me go for it
For which I am
meant to be
Just give me a chance
I beg for it
Let me go there
Where I fit


Let me
Before it's too late
Before I die
Yes...I wrote it for myself and it's my story but it's a story of people like me too who live in a small city of India...India is a developing country but still developing but still developing in some big areas ...not like ours...it's developing here but until an extent...and development is very slow in front of rituals or misconceptions or a famous dialogue of our city "What society will think?"...I wish people like me have a chanceto live to prove themselves...I am unable to say more
comes not with
bad grammar
or the stammer
       or misplaced i
it's not the
             its for is not
the stymied thought
                    or the common guy

It comes from
the million dollar word
                           to be heard
a life unspent to pay rent

                                   in a tent
and never asking


                                               WHY


SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/16/2015
A little freestyle
°
I want to live on a cloud
Where life isn't hard,
And people aren't cruel
Or accidentally life destroying.

***** this world.
Give it about five hours and I won't think this but right now, I hate almost everything.
He stared at the cuts on his wrist
Reprimanding himself for his cowardice
To not  finish the job
Melissa had seen those cuts
Dug deep  into his wrist; angry red
Knowing  full well the reason for them
But choosing to ignore them

He flinched letting out a sharp gasp
As slaps  and  punches  hit him
Opening old wounds  and  bruises
His body a palette of suffering  and  pain
Bleeding tears down his skeletal frame
Melissa  watched these attacks
Her boyfriend  inflicted upon him
But chose to ignore them

His eyes were dry from shedding tears
His heart was torn from the constant crushing
His body wracked and tired from the frequent beatings
And his brain weary and ready to shut down forever
That morning Melissa  couldn't  ignore the body
Hung in her front garden
Holding a bouquet of wilting roses;
With a heart saying *I love you
This is a touching one of mine
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