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      Nous sommes au mois de Septembre L’été vient juste de perdre ses membres Sa chaleur, sa beauté et sa tendresse.  
autumn reflectionswrinkled leaves wrinkled facesmourning dead leaves....Mark Toney © 2021.9/25/2021 - Poetry form: Haiku (for you)
My dreams are brightfeather lightat nightconditions rightCarefreeMind freeLife's challengesto be wonFeeling warmthfrom noonday sun.I dream of waterfloatingboating
53 days of Donald's  rule No more seeing the ignorant fool Into the White House a savior arrives Bringing wisdom and saving lives
I found inspiration in my everyday I know that's a very bland thing to say but I am my inspiration for my existence to stay   I am inspired by how I have become What I have created 
Mama, why did this Mama, i was to be your hope Your happiness and life It was not my fault Mama, was i even there? When grandma talked to you Warned you of the bastard? My unseen papa
Mama, why did this Mama, i was to be your hope Your happiness and life It was not my fault Mama, was i even there? When grandma talked to you Warned you of the bastard? My unseen papa
I was having lunch with a friend, Cheese pizza, Mountain Dew, and fries. A group of guys sitting nearby, Were laughing aloud at the school cafeteria. One of them approaches and sitting next to me He says,
My mirror is a liar and a cheat. I look at the mirror and see that the reflection is not mine. I’m not as old as this man. His hair is greying and his beard is gray. He is wearing glasses just so he can see. Who is this man?
Because I love you I see you for who you are I am not only an admirer, but I see you as a star. A divine reflection Not my missing piece Because when I found you, we both had worked to feel complete
The stars don't seem so far away,     when you remember yesterday. The way the moon shined,     and the feeling of a wish. The beams of light fluttering down,     a kiss.  
  Through jaded geomancy and blurred fantasy I perceive Shapes broad and thin, sights bright and grim, Approaching growth to gain but with the excitement I grieve,
- A year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty-five days.   An election outside.
the future of america sits on hard grey seats in a hard grey interior, encased in a yellow façade. we are  the chameleons reflecting our world, but neither the cheery paint
A car loses control and hits a baby. Reporters swirl around the dying innocence, Like vultures around potential demise. I grab my pen and write, I grab my laptop and type, I grab my phone and tweet
Loving thoughtlessly  
One less inquiry   
I will be content  Since my needs will all be met,  I can share my hope.
I wield a fist that has shattered glass, leaving in its wake Shards strewn across the crimson splatter lining the sink where I weep sinking, sinking, sinking down into
Today, I walked in your shoes, I walked a mile It was unpleasant, for all the memories you shared   I wondered at the weight, a heavy burden to bear
Ideas come and go, Gliding to and fro. Some melt away like dying snow. Others grow, To become things all will know. Some lead us to strange places, To cramped, wondrous spaces
running in
There’s this girl in the mirror… And she’s beautiful.
I have not always loved myself. My hips are too big, my eyes are too small, my skin is too uneven, my thighs are too meaty, my hair is too curly, my teeth are too crooked,
My Philosophy,- -It’s Flawless, Perfection. It’s Visceral, immaculate. No right, no wrong. Naught but self-reflection, A supernova’s glow, set upon all direction.
To those who turn a blind eye To all the happenings of the world “it’s not interesting enough” “it doesn’t affect me” “why should I care?” Imagine this You’re 7 feet under ground
There is a lot of flaw In an adolescent girl Leading a women’s ministry, Judged by the world.   There is a lot of sadness In an adolescent girl Motivating others, Smiling at the world.
Everyone has a different form of expression everyone is their own piece of art. walking, living, breathing art But what perplexes me so is that they never get to see themselves through someone else's eyes.
All persons must go their own ways, All people must do their own thing. For we can not predict or hope, To follow the path of the winds. They will twist and turn you inside out, Like the tides of the Tempest's sea.
On the late November wind
I'm not afraid of dying; I'm afraid of living. I no longer sleep, I'm paralyzed m=by life. Whom do I live for? To wake up to everyday The person in the mirror, looking back at me
To have any job I desired Would be quite a miracle. Toiling day in, day out  But enjoying it- that is the key. Although I have not always had the most pleasant Experiences at the dentist,
She was a worker from Primerica The best company in America Studies her way out to be a doctor By the watchful eye of her brother, the protector
There's two people staring back at me, a reflection; a nightmare. The difference between the one in the mirror, the one I want to be, is that, unlike the one in my nightmare,
I am told I should not fear Perfection- I should not fear it- for I will never reach it.   colors of the World are painted about Her Searching back with open eyes-  
Walking down the hall alone Her legs feel heavy, dense Her body seems so empty Her thoughts are stuck in past tense. There’s no set place she’s going Plenty of places she hasn't been
I’d treat you like a queen, but what does it mean? Not a thing, cause I’m new, and you want the old You tell me nothing even matters, you lie to me Warmth of your touch… yes, your lie's so bold
I watch from the balcony She's sitting there surrounded by the sea The ebb and flow swallow Her vision of me There's a crowd around her Yet she's still lonely Everything is so clear
I sit here thinking about you Wondering if you're okay and What's going through your mind   Are you alright, love? What Troubles you face, surely I can Help you fix if only you'll let me in  
Angel of mine Angel of mine Things were always fine Angel of mine Angel of mine That is no saint crossing our lines Angel of mine  Angel of mine Are you blind? Angel of mine
From where I’m from Summer fights with Winter And Spring cries over Fall
why why do i sit hear why do i wonder why do i care is it because i am human is it because i think or is it just because? why not why not do i go out why not do i take action
6:25 sec. Running in my life The BUS MAN is my driver To travel and do the exact same thing in the bathroom is a void I have yet to fill. I feel important to the stranger with money of no worth,
This is the house of 100 pound chairs. Where the tables are nailed to the floor. Where the windows are made out of bullet-proof glass and the neighbors broken and torn.
my mind spinning and throbbing searching for answers to help you get through sitting in the office all day lights hurt or maybe it'd just me with my sight because everything is like damn, 3 o'clock in the afternoon
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