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"tragically" poems
The sky is so tragically beautiful; A graveyard of stars.
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
Ode to the Night Sky
Lifes tragically hard more things going wrong Sometimes I do wonder how sorrowful the lyrics would be if written as a song It would be a song of Great Love friendship contentment and trust Of passion happiness beauty and lust Of illness   tragedy loneliness and fear Of anger confusion and heartbreak over the one I hold dear What sad lyrics they'd be If my life with you were a song
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
Sad Song
The sky is A graveyard of stars And I remark Something so tragically beautiful Just like fireworks of art From here to the nearest star And I wish I could lay awake In the night With you And our lingering hearts And tell you all about a tragedy Called life
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Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC
In love
I thought I forgot you I thought I long had you buried Deep in my memory. I thought you could no longer haunt me Like you used to do so often. I thought I got over you Until your eyes met mine today, Once or twice at most and that was about it. I couldn't look at you, I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears, So I burst into laughter instead. And I suppose that you saw through my fake act. Anyway... You were there in your corner, There in your pedestal, There in your elegance Drawing something dangerously beautiful And you were beautifully dangerous. And I, I could only watch you from a distance And learn to admire you Without touching you, Without kissing you, Or ******* you. We exchanged a conversation About random things You know, like How it took me about an hour To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me, How it tragically died, How I didn't cry when it died... But I actually did cry when it died... You looked all right, seriously. There in your peaceful world That I no longer was part of. There in your artistic mind, There in your capacity to forget, There in your tendency to break promises, There in the awful effect you always have on me. So you said goodbye Because you had something to go back to. I said goodbye Even though I had nothing to go back to. We parted ways once again, Me with your drawing pencil in my bag And you, you my dear, with a piece of me Inside your pocket. I remember you once said forever, but you only lied. I went home, I went home and cried. -- Eleanor
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
A Drawing Pencil And A Piece Of Me
I thought I forgot you I thought I long had you buried Deep in my memory. I thought you could no longer haunt me Like you used to do so often. I thought I got over you Until your eyes met mine today, Once or twice at most and that was about it. I couldn't look at you, I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears, So I burst into laughter instead. And I suppose that you saw through my fake act. Anyway... You were there in your corner, There in your pedestal, There in your elegance Drawing something dangerously beautiful And you were beautifully dangerous. And I, I could only watch you from a distance And learn to admire you Without touching you, Without kissing you, Or ******* you. We exchanged a conversation About random things You know, like How it took me about an hour To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me, How it tragically died, How I didn't cry when it died... But I actually did cry when it died... You looked all right, seriously. There in your peaceful world That I no longer was part of. There in your artistic mind, There in your capacity to forget, There in your tendency to break promises, There in the awful effect you always have on me. So you said goodbye Because you had something to go back to. I said goodbye Even though I had nothing to go back to. We parted ways once again, Me with your drawing pencil in my bag And you, you my dear, with a piece of me Inside your pocket. I remember you once said forever, but you only lied. I went home, I went home and cried. -- Eleanor
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51
I found graffiti pleasing On my worst of days Painted prejudice against order and orders Alive on a ton of bricks. One such image stuck with me A giraffe, long necked and smiling Happier than me, but Not tragically alive so. I loved him and I Thought I would get him tattooed. Unlikely, the permanent terrifies me. And doing so would insult that lovely little message. His smile meant, Don't be afraid of sadness, For like happiness, it goes, You are a ship facing waves of both, There were stormy seas ahead. I smile, because, it took something so permanent Something so fixed As a smile on a wall To let me know that nothing stays the same.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
The Oporto Giraffe
you not the flower but the bee kissing rosebuds, making living things bloom you no sunrise on mountains but the sun herself, every flame burning fierce sploding gainst the sky you not an ocean but a stream softly babbling and rescuing us, the lonely the lost you not forever but tragically temporary and every moment you are here i will be what i am - the pollen, the planets, the wanderer, the poet - dedicated to loving you
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Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 12:54 PM UTC
you you you
Rivers flow deep from my eyes, Because today  is the day, That I finally say my goodbyes, Today, I let you go. Your passing was the hardest, It broke my heart the mostest, Grandad, you took a piece of me, The day you  left Nan and me. I know it was your time, But you were mine, You were my best friend, But tragically that came to an end. Today I lay you to rest, Dear grandad, you were the best, Your final resting place by the sea, The place you where always meant to be.
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May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC
Goodbye
I swear I'm leaving right now Yet I'm still running around in a rush && STILL no pants on They lie somewhere on my floor If I don't leave now I'm going be late for sure...hmm got everything.. OH WAIT!!! SERIOUSLY...again..WOOOOW FUUUUCK quit messing with your hair & put down your BRUSH!! **** 15 minutes later **** & I'm still NOT gone Almost out the door... SON OF A BITCH...WHERE THE **** ARE MY KEYS..GREAT!! Now speeding like a police chase Weaving in & out of traffic lane by lane Trying to beat the clock & it's tick tocks A sound I  SERIOUSLY ******* HATE I'm barely on time, a few minutes to spare It is a WAAAY too familiar race It's an endless ******* trend, driving me insane It's like a whole day of me wearing matching socks SOOOOO, SO WHAT if I'm occasionally always LATE At least I'm always never not eventually there but still at least there && DOESN'T MATTER where it is I'm going If there is a specific time of arrival expected Don't tell me that correct time UNLESS..... In all actuality the arrival time is actually irrelevant Since I  know you have a "PARTY ALL THE TIME"  way to celebrate Then please keep on shuffling when my face is showing Lateness is something I've so EPICALLY PERFECTED If I had a nickel for every time I was early, I'd have a MOTHER ******* DIME!!! Being on time & I have just always been so distant That's why punctuality &  I will never relate!!! A WHITE RABBIT GO, GO, GO NOW IT'S MY ******* HABIT WOULDN'T YA KNOW ALWAYS IN A HURRY YELLING "IM LATE! IM LATE!" BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT FEELING OF WORRY TRAGICALLY IT'S NOT THAT EASY TO ABOLISH OR ANNIHILATE
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
WHITE RABBIT HABIT
I swear I'm leaving right now Yet I'm still running around in a rush && STILL no pants on They lie somewhere on my floor If I don't leave now I'm going be late for sure...hmm got everything.. OH WAIT!!! SERIOUSLY...again..WOOOOW FUUUUCK quit messing with your hair & put down your BRUSH!! **** 15 minutes later **** & I'm still NOT gone Almost out the door... SON OF A BITCH...WHERE THE **** ARE MY KEYS..GREAT!! Now speeding like a police chase Weaving in & out of traffic lane by lane Trying to beat the clock & it's tick tocks A sound I  SERIOUSLY ******* HATE I'm barely on time, a few minutes to spare It is a WAAAY too familiar race It's an endless ******* trend, driving me insane It's like a whole day of me wearing matching socks SOOOOO, SO WHAT if I'm occasionally always LATE At least I'm always never not eventually there but still at least there && DOESN'T MATTER where it is I'm going If there is a specific time of arrival expected Don't tell me that correct time UNLESS..... In all actuality the arrival time is actually irrelevant Since I  know you have a "PARTY ALL THE TIME"  way to celebrate Then please keep on shuffling when my face is showing Lateness is something I've so EPICALLY PERFECTED If I had a nickel for every time I was early, I'd have a MOTHER ******* DIME!!! Being on time & I have just always been so distant That's why punctuality &  I will never relate!!! A WHITE RABBIT GO, GO, GO NOW IT'S MY ******* HABIT WOULDN'T YA KNOW ALWAYS IN A HURRY YELLING "IM LATE! IM LATE!" BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT FEELING OF WORRY TRAGICALLY IT'S NOT THAT EASY TO ABOLISH OR ANNIHILATE
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38
Gatsby was in love; completely infatuated with another being The way he looked at her with his anxious eyes exhibited a love that couldn't be greater And the words he spoke emitted such fondness for her rosy lips against his as he whispered sweet stories that he irresistibly imagined of their future together he fell so in love-- he fell so tragically and desperately in l o v e-- he lost himself completely and became absent in his own consciousness trusting false hopes, refusing to let go of what would never be his and if this insanity is what they call true love-- if this is what one experiences when such passion takes over-- then I, too have gone Gatsby for you.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
J. Gatsby
"Remember in summer when we used to listen to the smiths and make out in that little hidden park?" He said with a little smirk. "Tragically, yes." She didn't even look at him. She didn't laugh with him. She didn't smirk back. She looked ahead, stared at the open road, like it was a possible escape plan. "I miss you." He didn't think. Its funny, the things you regret immediately, the things you regret as they're happening. "No, you don't." The same monotone voice. "Why cant we get over this?" Hes not angry, or pleading, or sad. Hes just asking. He doesn't expect an answer. "Because I hate you." She said. This time she looked away from the road, she looked at him, dead in the eye. Her eyes were welled with tears, they did not steam down her face or smear her make up, they were just there. Like they weren't for anyone but her. And he didn't want to take that away from her. "You're my best friend." "I don't care. I hate you, with every fiber of my being, I hate you. I hate you like the sun hates the moon, I hate you." She said it matter of factly, trying to be hurtful. She didn't want him to think she was weak. That she would just give up on this. "I cant loose you." His voice broke half way though, snapped under the pressure, hiccuped like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush. She turned to him, lent forward and whispered in his ear. "Too late." She turned on the ***** of her feet and melted away into the cool winters day, like she used to on those summer ones, where they would listen to the smiths, in that little hidden field, and make out. When they were best friends. When they both knew they could never be just best friends. When they both tasted like the american dream and homemade cooking. When the sun loved the moon.
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
A short story for the sun and the moon
"Remember in summer when we used to listen to the smiths and make out in that little hidden park?" He said with a little smirk. "Tragically, yes." She didn't even look at him. She didn't laugh with him. She didn't smirk back. She looked ahead, stared at the open road, like it was a possible escape plan. "I miss you." He didn't think. Its funny, the things you regret immediately, the things you regret as they're happening. "No, you don't." The same monotone voice. "Why cant we get over this?" Hes not angry, or pleading, or sad. Hes just asking. He doesn't expect an answer. "Because I hate you." She said. This time she looked away from the road, she looked at him, dead in the eye. Her eyes were welled with tears, they did not steam down her face or smear her make up, they were just there. Like they weren't for anyone but her. And he didn't want to take that away from her. "You're my best friend." "I don't care. I hate you, with every fiber of my being, I hate you. I hate you like the sun hates the moon, I hate you." She said it matter of factly, trying to be hurtful. She didn't want him to think she was weak. That she would just give up on this. "I cant loose you." His voice broke half way though, snapped under the pressure, hiccuped like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush. She turned to him, lent forward and whispered in his ear. "Too late." She turned on the ***** of her feet and melted away into the cool winters day, like she used to on those summer ones, where they would listen to the smiths, in that little hidden field, and make out. When they were best friends. When they both knew they could never be just best friends. When they both tasted like the american dream and homemade cooking. When the sun loved the moon.
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11
He slumped onto the barbedwire thinking of the end in no man's land his uniform grey with ash his army colours now blind to all From out of a trench he had dashed but dying no hero by the call of a whistle just a name in a thankless world war that in a thousand more years will have tragically so many tears No Poppy will grow here whilst the bombs and gunfire go on this land will not settle with killing machines of metal So he is dying with his blood and pride yet not in a land for butterflies he looks at his loves stained photograph in his last breath gasps, Poppy my Poppy By Christis Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
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Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Poppy My Poppy
The sunrise greets the morning dew, to paint the sky with a vibrant hue. The last night has passed and a new days has come, advertised perfectly by a morning’s sun. Alarm clock birds hold no button to “snooze,” nothing left from yesterday, so now nothing left to lose. Go hesitantly wipe the sleep from your eyes, and politely greet the oncoming sunrise. The blissful sunset that once held the night, sped off within our starry eyes so fast. The brilliant, blinding, shining light, tragically drifted off, lost in the past. It separates the long days from the glorious dreams, and divides them into hostile, opposing teams. A sunrise and it’s rays can always carry hope, that maybe one day it’s possible to move on. Either surprise fairy tale, or tasteless joke, maybe my sense of humour is just somewhat wrong. So remember to always bless a sunrise, but never, ever more than a sunset. Both light up the passing, fading skies, that cover our shaking regret. At night, we all strive only to peacefully sleep, to **** the hours before the sun makes horizon’s leap.
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Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
Ode to a Sunrise
i. there's something melancholy, something tragically beautiful about loving someone who doesn't love you ii. there is a certain sadness of bleeding for someone who wouldn't even shed a tear for you iii. and there is a certain romance to reaching out and falling to the floor and falling for you and crying silent storms of unexpected kisses and warm hugs.
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
something exciting
Broken lines on subway walls, twisted dolls, and high noon cat calls This is the way I see life It is a micosm of our failed society, with a beaten down view on stained glass, shattered on the empty church floor begging us to pray over a God that we can't see or touch. Kneeling in front of the wooden church pews, with two bruised knees yelling out in pain our convictions into some sort of religious echo chamber of  somber and remorse So, you want us to believe in what is real or what is not!!! What is this so called life you speak of? It sounds like a messed up Shakespeare tragedy A sad tragedy that surrounds every living soul like some God forsaken circus freak dressed up ********* in a clown suit A souless tragedy that beats down the door of our hearts then shreds it into tiny pieces, only to leave it on the ***** kitchen table to rot in front of us Yes, that so called life Its hard to imagine what I have seen what I touched, or what I have felt inside I cannot explain it in simple words, it's complicated It's more bad than good, destitute and diluted, forgotten and then deleted It has all become a tragic piece of me Why? Because I live it every single day, every single minute, every single second and every single breathe So, let that sink in. Just tragic in a way, tragically distorted mindless thoughts trapped in each one of us.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
A Tragic Piece of Me
you are beautiful. you are tragically beautiful. you are notre dame at night. you are the eiffel tower amidst bombshells. you are the house of commons and the house of lords. you are the lone beam standing after Katrina. you are the one baby sea turtle who makes it off the beach. you are the dark side of the moon. you are the patch of sand struck by lightning. you are the remains discovered after the plane goes down. you're a smooth puddle in a parking lot. you are the creaky stair that warns of intruders. you are all of the red skittles. you are Job 3:14.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Job 3:14
Numbing pain; headache tablets full in a mouth, speedy replies, and local loves. I love the rush. I broke my heart for a crush. Reminder: life is a little too rough. But I'm acting tough, close to the lines of messing up. Always about to cuss. I swore it was the last, but that's just a whispering bluff. Enough of myself, too full of myself every time I laugh. I spend hours thinking about random stuff; to huff and puff, and blow away my best love. And we both love spending hours talking about some random stuff. She's had enough, with pure innocence of a dove. And I'm the one sinning on her behalf. She's the better half; but still a kid at heart, acting tough. She's a calf, domesticated from her wild love from her past. We're tragically in love, not from above or succumbs; pushing time into each other, as it will shove. Holding necks with a love glove, it has me so choked up. In the first line of love being a drug.
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Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 3:00 PM UTC
Love drug
at age 10, my mother pointed At the small birth mark On my left knee and said, "Someone's going to love You for that one day." At age 16, I told her that a boy, One far away, Told me I was unloveable. "He couldn't be more wrong," She promised. At age 19, She picked up my prescription, And cried, "I don't want you To get your heart broken, Mary." She sobbed. The empty encouragements mean nothing, When a daughter has decided That the need to be tragically beautiful, Is more important than the need To be exceptionally loved.
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Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 5:54 PM UTC
my mother
liquid red ruby spilled on her white canvas a shining silver next to a blue wrist purple marks on her ,telling her grey tales yellow pills scattered across her pink bed sheet they say she once had a colorful personality you could see it in her death too, tragically ..
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
a colorful death..
"Dawn" I wonder where the prayers went...after years spent sitting in the darkness looking for a change that never came...it never came...and... Where Is My Diamoonnnd!!!!??? All I Have is coal... And why.... Why can't I have 3 wishes at least?... Because change never came...it never came... Only the Storm remained. But when being present was a requirement, there transpired a lucid calm... Mmm... If only it could be grasped like bed sheets the night the Storm was conceived... Oh I wish those knees could have been broken!!!... So they wouldn't have opened to receive...seed...or conceive... Forgive me.. I pray for a mime to be a fly on the wall of these thoughts!! I pray the clouds part so the sun can shine and you find rest.. Because.... Everything's better when you are asleep... Suffering through your Own nightmares... What happened to the maternal instinct purposed to protect you, nurture you to a point of functionality? Is there such thing as functional with you?... Or Did you wear out your place of origin to where you're no longer sought for or welcomed? Was it a joy to desert such a never ending storm? Is there no remorse? Not for your abandonment...but for society... No thought for the trail of derailed strangers who will never forget the name of the tornadic soul who impacted them tragically...? Tragic.... Your calms last long enough to fall in love with the beauty in between..and it is so beautiful. But... Not long enough to prepare for your next season...and... Why..... Why won't you learn to warn your lovers? So they may brace for... Dawn... Oh... But...wait... Look... The sun... The sun is coming... The heavens still love me... So... Since the sun is out, I love you... Sweet dreams. ~Say Dat~
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Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC
Dawn
"Dawn" I wonder where the prayers went...after years spent sitting in the darkness looking for a change that never came...it never came...and... Where Is My Diamoonnnd!!!!??? All I Have is coal... And why.... Why can't I have 3 wishes at least?... Because change never came...it never came... Only the Storm remained. But when being present was a requirement, there transpired a lucid calm... Mmm... If only it could be grasped like bed sheets the night the Storm was conceived... Oh I wish those knees could have been broken!!!... So they wouldn't have opened to receive...seed...or conceive... Forgive me.. I pray for a mime to be a fly on the wall of these thoughts!! I pray the clouds part so the sun can shine and you find rest.. Because.... Everything's better when you are asleep... Suffering through your Own nightmares... What happened to the maternal instinct purposed to protect you, nurture you to a point of functionality? Is there such thing as functional with you?... Or Did you wear out your place of origin to where you're no longer sought for or welcomed? Was it a joy to desert such a never ending storm? Is there no remorse? Not for your abandonment...but for society... No thought for the trail of derailed strangers who will never forget the name of the tornadic soul who impacted them tragically...? Tragic.... Your calms last long enough to fall in love with the beauty in between..and it is so beautiful. But... Not long enough to prepare for your next season...and... Why..... Why won't you learn to warn your lovers? So they may brace for... Dawn... Oh... But...wait... Look... The sun... The sun is coming... The heavens still love me... So... Since the sun is out, I love you... Sweet dreams. ~Say Dat~
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46
Your northern light lures me in it's blinding my eyes it's so cold and so tragically beautiful it's roaming alone on a loose highway where no man can stay We all see you, but not all can feel you I am powerless and drained of self-love but if you want to, I'll love you enough enough for you to never feel alone despite our distance, I'll keep you sane and perhaps you can keep me warm We've felt the calamity in our hearts etching happiness away; injecting darkness all over but it's okay, it's all okay now we've found each other and we'll get through it I do not know much, but this I know; all this pain and suffering have not been in vain since it led me to you, and you to me so let's give happiness a second chance, shall we?
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May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 8:19 AM UTC
Together
A man he wrote the book A book for all and none About a life spent leaning Leaning towards the sun In search of all a greatness  His life a distant run A battle for a giant He reaches for the sun On a field of giants Merely flesh and blood He disregards the mismatch And stretches for the sun Life the fiercest battle A war that’s never won Commits his life to reaching Reaching for the sun He asks the aged pastor     Disillusioned as the nun Confides in self and marches on Onward towards the sun Saw life and fortune a lady Took a chance with love Traded breast and beauty Traded it for the sun His only life a sacrifice A gamble for a goal With faith and strength he pushes on He strains his empty soul Tried to be a good man Emulates Christ the son Grounded broken wings he ***** Tragically towards the sun To advance the course of history Alexander, Caesar, the *** A martyr for the western world He reaches for the sun To hold the mighty leviathan With gear to catch a cod Born with a head of a ******* He aspires to be a god And oh his quest does beckon Failure certain done What else can he do He reaches for the sun To god he clings his anchor Sworn service to God and Son Hopelessly he leans Leaning towards the son
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
Leaning Towards the Sun
keep your mind on a tight leash because if you let your thoughts wander they may end up in the clouds where your hopes are in the perfect position to tragically fall
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
bad advice
Boy meets girl They fall in love and live happily ever after. That's the way it has always been. Boy meets boy or Girl meets girl they fall love But one has to "disappear" tragically. That's the way it has always been.
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Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 5:25 PM UTC
Boy and Boy