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Riding the painted pony across the purple dream
Wondering at all the people involved in sailor schemes

  The mystic waterfall colors of all the dreams we left behind
  Color our truths with raven’s lust , that tells of mankind’s find

  The anchor bail , a silent mare , I’ve stalked her on the train
    Only to find she’s truly tied to the rolling ball and chain

The ram’s head tide , a prism’s light , just echoes of our might
For like the rolling sagebrush the unicorn must fight

The primal sea is boiling the maelstrom pulls the tides
   I sail a ship of ebony a cross the sea of fire
Wouldn't it an aura roan and do you even know your own to
blew it away?
 Nov 2021 M Vogel
Amanda Shelton
Upon the night the poet writes,
within my darkened room
under candlelight all is revealed.

From my ink comes black and blue, with bruises from my passed I stain these walls.

Memories never leave me,
pain and suffering is like a
shadow always following me.

Writing is a release, a bandaid
to help me heal.

These emotional hills are a
struggle to claim, but I grew bat
wings so watch me fly.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton
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