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  Sleek black pen And Pearly white paper Ready to write But Out of words   Sharpened pencil
In the sun, My skin gets darker, But that is not my fault, The heat, Makes people uncomfortable, But that is not my fault, Kids play with water, As though we have some to spare,
Pay attention to the sunlight, the sunlight is the most warm, visible radiation of all. Down, down into the darkness it goes- the hot, the tender, the close.  
Hard work, you can get anywhere if you have it It is something you have to admit And if you commit Surely you will be happy And I can bet
I have everything. I own nothing. In the reality of the world, this is my only truth, this is the only thing I know  to be true. Everything is available to me. There are no limits.
I keep thinking poetry is this pretty little box. Pack it in and place a pretty bow on top.  Hey guys, here's an idea, something witty here.  Write whatever you want.   
Fair as me and sweet with glee, patterns as succulent and tasty
She sits with me everyday  Follows me everywhere I go  Swaying her feet back and forth on the swings Though, I've never seen her swing   Its like she wants to learn how  But why
To hear you breathe To kiss your face To see you sleep To walk your pace To be your need To be your amazing grace I'd give anything for one more day
Every thought. Every dream, every hope, every fear unheard- silently hidden within one's self. A soft, slow grumble tumbling up and courageously out- voiced through lead and chalk, ink and paper. No longer a thought.
How it looks, how it is prepared, how it smells is why we eat it Crumbs may fall and we scrap our plates bit by bit Its hits our mouth and our taste buds are in love Something this good is totally undreamed of
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