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  Mar 2020 Someday
Lillian May
Be gentle with us.
please.
or not
it's your call
but keep in mind that we as poets
we feel too strong
which is not to say that that is wrong
we don't ease into love, we quickly fall
we love like we're dying
we live like we're small
but in our minds.
in our minds we are flying

we feel everything at once
you wouldn't think it by looking
looking at our normal fronts
a disguise, a charade
but prey don't believe a masquerade
a poet can be but anyone
existing silently
a poet can be but everyone
existing violently
we all make up stories
we're all acting to a degree
so things aren't so different
no not so different you and me

we notice the quirks
we notice the nothings
if you meet a poet then you should believe
you should know that we
we love what we see
and appreciate all forms of beauty
for to us imperfect is lovely
perfect doesn't exist
we have those markings on our wrist
of all the awful places we've been to we kissed
we've kissed the devil when we went
to hell and back again

so now that you have been informed
that a poets heart is easily scorned
knowing we feel deeply
knowing we feel more
more than we really should I've warned
we don't just love a person when we fall
we love their whole world
we love it all
and when we're hurt it is hard to trust
and thus
please.
Be gentle with us.
  Mar 2020 Someday
Carla
Memories faded,
Locked with no key,
Hidden in great depths,
Wandering, but not free.
  Mar 2020 Someday
Carla
A tattoo is more,
Than a blotch of ink,
A drawing on skin,
Is more than you think.

Regardless of what,
Your tattoo may depict,
The fine illustration,
Isn’t just what you picked.

It is a symbol,
Of humans alive,
And how permanency,
Is all that we strive.

But a tattoo fades,
And we do as well,
Tattoos share a secret,
That man cannot tell.

Just, before you fade away,
Tell humanity to **** it,
And go live your life,
Before you kick the bucket.
  Mar 2020 Someday
Carla
Eyes of a snake,
Slithering near,
Symbolizing terror,
Showcasing fear.

Sneaking quietly,
To unsuspecting mates,
Changing the course,
Of everyone's fates.

Firsthand experience,
For this sort of thing,
Comes with time,
And a heart on a string.

Holding your heart,
Away from you,
Protecting it from hurt,
Until you know what's true.

Hypocrisy strikes,
With an iron blade,
But the pain,
Will never fade.

It's not the concept,
Of hypocrisy alone,
But when someone uses it,
It rattles the bone.

Whether intentional,
Or just misunderstanding,
The darkness is left,
To continue expanding.

Eyes of a snake,
A crime to commit,
The story of,
A hypocrite.
  Mar 2020 Someday
Carla
We were running in the field.
She was chasing me.
I ran home and slammed the door shut.

Banging.

Laughing.

Squealing.

Silence.

. . .

I opened the door.
She was just lying there.

Bruised.
Bloodied.
Torn apart.

What I heard was just my mind playing games.


Pleading.

Crying.

Screaming.

Silence.
I was falling asleep and ended up telling myself a story, this is what my mind produced so I woke back up and began writing it down immediately. Enjoy!
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