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the growing weed never stopsuntil we cut it down,and when we dowe’ve controlled its fatebecoming too much of an growing flowers too late? 
The blazing star streaks across the sky Life Stirring, Soft-skin wrapped limbs Reaching for the light The clock strikes 12 and time begins
When I was in the ninth grade The school wanted us professional in how we dress and how we behave A certain day of the week Which they called a bit of a treat From the normalcy of uniforms of khaki and navy
Once upon a midnight postpubescent, Much I marvelled the silent graafian follicle; Puberty - tormentor of my dreams. I awoke and flung the legal age, In a kingdom full of menses When I thought of the puberty.
Changéd have I been since the dawn of the year These new thoughts, these new words, have changéd me.
I used to live on Kauai, my life was paradise I was beginning to think I was beginning to arise When I moved to Maui, and everything crashed My life there, which was short, was absolute terror
I left the child at the spring And on I went to sense the sting; I left him sitting by the road Although my weary soul forebode  
God gave me a heart to love To sympathize, want, need and all thee above
she points to her old teeth. she asks me if she should get them all pulled out, all at once, or one by one, a process. partial dentures? full dentures? not yet sure.   my slimy tongue slides around
Candles multiply,  like a fire spreading in our hearts. A fire of passion, a passion for life, that keeps on growing, as we keep on going.   It simmers down after a certain year,
A world once of simplicity Has fallen into a mystery From chaos and destruction Humanity could only blossom
A good friend of mine once told me "Close friends? You don't have them. They're all over there, away from you, Because you, yourself, are making a schism." This struck me as odd, and I stopped.
Your first iPod: clunky, junky, heavy to the pocket ...not to mention kinda square. But, you adored it anyway, stuck replaying that one 90's pop song until you loved it,
i dream of happier days:before the cell phone,her now-constant companion.before computers, iPods.before she caredabout how she looks.about fitting in,conforming.back when a night light 
Step into a new life.Emerge into darkness,walk into the chill, unknown underpass.Quickly, lights and color whirl by,gigantic masses begin to take form.
Mom’s hand vices around tiny fingers, because tiny toes should not tread into traffic. But Mom’s grip slackens as yours tightens around a wheel that steers you onto the turnpike.
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