I tried to write a poem

No words came out.


Only thoughts of Alex Dang and his blinker left on half a mile

Or his tokyo drift.


Thoughts of Michael Lee unwillingly hanging up the phone

But so gladly saying he didn't want to die.


Trying to wrap my head around how someone could use the words God and gay in the same sentence

Other than to say God hates them

Well Elliott said that God is Gay.


The idea that the accents we are forced to bear are what make us who we are.

It is okay  not to speak perfect english.


Thoughts of untouched poets and pure words.

Words that can bring forth emotion and change lives.


Thoughts of their words

How paint pictures

And bring  music to my ears.


Thoughts of how maybe, one day I too could  be a poet.


This poem is about: 


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