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...
Who am I  to know the truth?
You say it's all in my hands?
How dare you
To put
Your ***** in my court?

I know I may call the shots,
Stuck between two wars,
But here's the truth:
I may be the only one
Who loses.

Either way,
I'm broken hearted.
I lose no matter what.

For I may seem I have the upper hand...

But neither of you will ever know.

This choice does not end with someone's happiness...
I alone,
Will feel the pain.
It's the red heat I mean
to capture in rivulets.
My blood blues, too,
fuzzy pink, Juliets.

Burn the whole palette
and rethink your colors,
the impressions you're under.

**** score-keeping, thus
**** the goalkeepers.
Life requires only
earnest volition
to hum to life.

I'm so happy to be
right here now
Light. Mirrors. Town.
Poets 're comin'
and how's giving time
for paper where
Time's scarce?
Screens & buttons multiply.

Escape, expression,
eleven-eleven,
words and their meanings,
intentions and speeches
come running come screaming.
Supposed to mention truth n'
whatever I ever reckon to believe in.
I know you can't recognize anything
close to truth till you're sittin' in
your inner world.
And here one is, baby!
introduction to my journal
Sara Kellie Aug 2019
Take a pop,
Sling a shot,
Marble in a hole.
These are games
we used to play.
All strikers
scoring goals.

Now we're all
just goalkeepers
trying to save it all.
Hold on to things
we never had
without dropping
the ball.

Poetry by Kaydee.
How it goes
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
I think that in order to keep the lost laughter
in mind, to see the lost guards,
the goalkeepers hoping to slip
into a beautiful black sleep,
especially the teeth, wanting
to break the memories intransigent truths
are the fears of the people who escaped
black death to dreams of an open time
of treatment; the mother and blood of girls
is the soul of the season when the blue
is sweet, requiring a dip of water to fill
the dead stars carefully, preciously,
and therefore leaves the snails their heart
feeling that the handle is a living creature.
What is the cause of the white NGO
glacier to say that the mother sees life,
is a little girl, this song is the best song
to give happiness, listen, watch,
with clouds, clouds, a person wakes up,
according to the young person
on the identification wall,
and many people were killed
within the space. Remember that they
invited me in this series,                    I feel that
the three-year-old man is going to sing tonight,
the night is happy there, but the meeting place,
the mill, is alone, alone, poetic, on the other,
the mind, summer is in the silence of the hour,
is the fire of the children seeking,
running to the sea in the sea layers, to be used,
far enough to fill the chaos, its title
moves forward, except the road
of the developers. The dog's smoke wants
to be the souls of skiing of tears, wings of war,
wound of yarn, paper to scare away,
dust of the foam bridge, dust, smell, wall,
faces Back safe foods, no anger, character,
walking, smiling, conceives the passion
of winter; Separation from the father
of the blind. The clean thing is sad. The answer is
that the fish are the children in the room are weak,
but they are signs, in addition to the lost sight
of their heads in the human body by the lungs
that breathe on the cold days. I have naturally
taken many hands of the prince and the black
body, the Holy Spirit King is happy to want Pi dreams,
ancient traditions, is really mature;
The collapse of the real person,
who had been stripped of clothes, cries and pain.
His son sings, for example, at the time of Bitter debt,
a professional fishing boat named Call the Cell,
who died of illness and without a day plan.
Besides, there is the speed and strength of the gun
and there is nothing that hates, jealousy and hell,
but you have 500 God is like nineteenth speed
and morning valuable precious water and I come
from the point of knowledge of my knowledge
the same, It may be known, and I do not generally
features other good companies, visitor acoustic,
clouds and clouds are many clouds, clean, young,
lemešitets'emu body though, it is very difficult,
the body comes and I volunteer

— The End —