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 Jul 2013 Tori Hart
Alex McDaniel
I am a puzzle,
When completed I am a masterpiece,
But now I sit here unfinished at the hands of a five year old.
I am the half bitten cookie,
That the five year old left out on the table to be tossed in the garbage.
I am an ice cube,
That unfortunately missed the cup and now lays on the floor,
Still strong and solid but partially puddled in sorrow.
I am an old bridge,
A few years ago I was glowing with beauty,
Now I sit here broken, unusable and instead of glowing,
All I cast is a dark and lonely gloom.
I am our love,
Something that could be magical,
But instead is a chess game of emotions never to be finished.
You are that five year old,
Leaving me in the dust unfinished and broken.
 Jul 2013 Tori Hart
Yumna Zahid
You can love me or loathe me,
Agree or disagree,
But you can never erase me.

I drive you,
Rein you in or rip you apart,
I encroach your mind with my conniving hands,
Yet you haven't the strength to expunge me.

However you might shut me out or restrain me
But in the end you succumb and I win.

I give you the hope to live,
The backbone to prop yourself up in despairing times,
The happiness to rejoice.

Call me friend or fiend,
Your fort or your facade,

Nonetheless I'm your past,
Will be your future and I'm here right now...
I'm undeniably your conscience
 Jul 2013 Tori Hart
---
Sad
 Jul 2013 Tori Hart
---
Sad
I don't often feel
Sad
And if I do
I can replace it
Quickly
With many things.
I have other
Feelings
That I prefer
And it isn't difficult
For me
To choose
Not
To be sad.
I do not
Cry
Partially because
I cannot
Easily.
Perhaps I am
Cried out?
I used to
Cry
But I don't
Now.
I have outlets
To release emotion
And a couple
People
To talk to.
I don't even have to tell people
About my problems
Because they are minor
And I feel
Odd
Awkward
Ashamed
To bring it up
Even if I am asked.
So even a friendly
Conversation
Helps
Even if the person is unaware
Of their impact
On my life.
I wonder
If these people know
How much I appreciate
Them
Love
Them
I want to help them.
With their worries
I want to improve their moods
But sometimes I need
Help
Myself.
Because no one
Is strong enough
Alone.
Oh  the ocean
the only one i know
and i don't wanna swim
if it gets too cold

And the motions
of love get old
and i wont settle for silver
when i once had gold..... when i once had you

Oh the commotion
of my emotions
led me to the night my soul was sold
i don't wanna grow old knowing the truth wasn't told

Both paper my heart
and the letter that you hold
let it be read as my heart
it unfolds..... for you

If my heart is my compass
then X you mark the spot
ill find my gold
and let it go i will not

If someone ever loved you
well i hope it would show
ill find my lovin'
your my compass rose

so ill swim these parts of the ocean
where the lonely get cold
someday currents will  lead me
to somewhere you'd call home

Once a filthy pirate
I reap what i sow
and i don't wanna love
without love from my gold! HA!
An artist, creative and imaginative
Powerful enough to place, into mere words,
The phenomena that take place in his mind.

Marveled enough by his surroundings
That evoke anger, gratitude or happiness
His mind efficacious, his talent omnipotent.

Bourne of superior intellect
Taken in by souldiers of courage and
Raised by wisdom, pain and knowledge.

I'm No Poete, just a Mindless Writer.

Each day the Poete rises from his rest
Each day the Poete more powerful than the last
Each day the Poete expresses greatness from within.

Rhythm and brilliance flow deeply in his veins
Beauty created by the molding of his words
Truth is spoken through the realness of his verse.

Poete Prophet, able to see what's hidden beneath
He sees the lies abstruse in sugar-coated deceit
He reveals the fib's tales and makes them his gospel.

I'm No Poete, just a Mindless Writer.

Exquisite verse, natural and unrehearsed
The Poete will forever be mind blown
And continue to expose the joy in his word.

He writes not for tangible wealth or
Useless recognition, but he blesses his pen to paper for the simple appreciation of veracity.

The Poete steals sight from the blind,
He takes weakness from the strong,
And owns the shades of colour, all to create artistry.

See I'm No Poete, just a Mindless Writer.

— The End —