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I love the way your hand moves when you wave to me, The way you conduct yourself when we go out together, And how your mouth feels when it touches my mouth .
Shiver down your spine, Voices on a cold breeze that blows over the hills. You said you'd stay for them, for me Please make me a promise, make us a promise. They talk about the view from halfway down
After everything,  It was all meaningless What was the reason?
  So it begins. The temperature rises. Everyone's running amok Willing to do whatever it takes To make the loudest sounds Find the one, Reproduce,  Die,  So the ones after me
Everything happens for a reason. Every single painful thing we've ever gone through happens for a reason. All those sleepless nights, all those days of hiding behind masks,
For Satori: The Strangeness You Gave Me   When I went in search of the root my blind fingernails scraping through the rot I found the strangeness you gave me It was wrapped in newsprint
written 08/09/16 So much disappointment, So much hate, So much lies, So many things that I'm afraid.   I seek to punish, I seek to find pain,  I seek to feel alive,
Words roll and tumble through the air It’s funny, because those words hold the most possibility We either hate it or love it, but everyone uses it Some words flash their importance and stare you in the eye
  YouThe one I wantThe one I hold close to my heartForever and everThe one I don't want to let goYouThe spark that ignites the fire in my soulThe chill ascending upon my spineThe major chords played in our melodyThe emotions carried in my tearsYou
Not at all materialistic, but possessive of my possessions. Things that mean a lot to me, not much bit scraps of paper, pages sewn together. I made them to fit perfectly and They are my most precious of things,
I am a kiss I am the rain the knot in my stomach when I step on stage the words I pen with my own hand and the rings on the table left behind by my half-fnished mug of peppermint tea.
This was never about love Or the romantic notion That you still cared for me. It wasn’t in some doomed attempt To get me back like I might have hoped Those short few months ago
I wait and watch to hear my name, I wait until to see what tomorrow brings, I wait and I find myself listening, hoping, and dreaming.   Ohio brings what Arizona cannot, Humidity, winter, blazing summers
I write to express myself, to take things off my mind. To pour my heart out in a story, to lay back and unwind. To get away from reality, take part in something more. Write about something unique, so no one will get bored.
The words I would say and would not be accepted are the ones I lay on paper, softly printed disguising them in the puzzle of poetry only those who seek their meaning
Being rewarded: to receive something for doing something. It's a great feeling whether it be cash or whatever with we're dealing.  It sort of a mental healing.  To feel accepted and recognized,
I write this poem is for you,Because you have an honest soul,Because you've cried yourself to sleep at night at least once before.
  I was first introduced By a man named Dr. Seuss.   His rhymes helped me in the best of ways, Especially if it was one of my worst days.   A real inspiration, Gave me a good foundation.
Why does he write? An question rhetorical in its nature To know why he writes Is to kno the story of the Pen & the Paper One plays the role of his savior the other one plays the role of his creator
A constant babble fills my ears too many people shouting their word. I cannot listen, nor can I be heard.   I cry out, to the great unknown Whether or not they hear me i don't know.
Why do I write you say? Why do i scribble the day away? Words are moving, filled with emotion. Writing succesfully requires devotion. It is upon this note, That here this poem is what i wrote.
When I put pen to paper there is no hold back on the amountEndless feelings cannot be spilled with in 30 linesAnd an imminent amount of timeAnd sometimes, they're not even sublimeSo you're here, like why waste my time
My pen is my voice It is used to express what my voice cannot say. My pen is my mind What it writes is what I think, What I know, What I wish for, What I dream of. My pen is my happiness,
  Ashes to ashes. Stardust to stardust.   Not something you can take with you Exactly But not something you can easily Relinquish. Grow claws just to clutch at it for a
Reasons I write, there are many Firstly there are no rules I write what I want How I want Even so, I pay attention to spelling And that pesky grammar I write to express my views
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