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The dream of a fool, Many might say We’re capitalist’s tools, As we’re on our way Surviving as slaves On minimum wage at Wal-Mart or K-Mart Striving for the day until we get the part
Today and Tomorrow Not the same now Its like two sides of a coin Heaven and Hell i supposeToday's ride homeTomorrow's pollution stormYet no one seems to botherunless its the order
Time is short I took the pills And now it's time for you to know what I do when I'm down, or my tank is running low I write. I write every snowy day And every summer night.
My forest, my home, Where the dead leaves fall.
If you could only write once, what would you say? Would you let your thoughts that run deep crawl out and play, allow the pen's ink to give all your secrets away.
We go our whole lives without looking for it,No one seeks the answers anymore,No longer are we wise men and women,No loner do we question existence,
I wan't to subside in a place where there is an abundance of beauteous wildlife.
Danbury is my home, my house, and my hearth. It is the bustling Main Street and the quiet back roads. It is the big lake full of waterweeds and the seagulls that fight with the geese on the shore.
The sweet sound of birds singing through the leaves the wind innocently plays tag around the trees. The soothing sound as water travels downstream, or silently rests clear and serene.
Who are we? What are we? Where did we come from? When we got here? How? Questions Americans need to ask themselves. Before we say the word IMMIGRANT to anyone,
I can begin to see it now, the little ripples in my cup that form a smile, a ladybug climbing up my window sill-
Sky is barren Earth desolate both lonely and windswept until they assent to replenish and nourish themselves. They dance gracefully through their labor. Sky grabs his brush,
I want to forget.
The voice isn't coming from vocal chords
The sun shines brighter on the other side Where children can run and play At the park and by the slide
A lazy breeze hums Hammocks swing in the summer The sun smiles down
I’ve been back a week now. A week out of Europe and a week in America. So why does that feel so odd to me? I was born here. I lived here my whole life. Why do I feel so out of place?
Long ago, I found a tree. Alone it stood by the sea. I went beneath its brilliant shade And all my troubles there I laid. To the tree, at night, I stole And released the sorrows of my soul.
I am a mixture. A swirl. A combination. A blend. A concoction of two different nations. I am two parts color and two parts white. One half day. One half night. Two separate parts of two separate wholes
I won the case, my prize? One way ticket to paradise. I take my people and go The land is vast, they said We don’t need your savagery, they said My people’s tears trace the trail
Education is the way to go They say the more we learn the more we earn Go to school get good grades and one day it will pay. Read them books and write them essays Answer the questions and pass the exams.
To you it’s just a word But it makes her soul burns And leads to that knife She takes that first slice And though the cut hurts She’d rather feel that pain
Maybe we could educate men That no always means no And I guess we could educate women too That it's not your fault What he did to you Even if he was your boyfriend A random stranger
Today is my cheat day, Or maybe my cheat week, A smirk of a smile, Of diets and exercise I do not speak, The guilt forgotten because I seek, The delicious foods no longer I sneak,
The last glance is always the heaviest. Even though you'd stared at the concrete front steps thousands of times as you stepped your feet up them one, two, three.
withered petals, dented leaves, and crusty, dried dirt blanket the ground beneath our souls. the rain is cold but fresh; nature burns the vestiges of fall and cerulean forget-me-nots remember me.
When you’re alone in the castle When even the mice have gone When the moonlight shadows stalk And it’s a long time till dawn When you cannot hear a voice Because the walls block out the sound
That tear you saw Represents all the pain i have suffered The built up anger,hate, and frustration That had been bestowed upon me That tear isn't any ordinary tear It isn't the cry for attention or pity It's the tear of someone so broken inside I
Sometimes growing up Is like the first day of school. You aren't sure what to do, You aren't sure who you are, Or what you want For lunch or for life. The second day of school
To the students we are "freaks" To the staff we are "special" To the administration we are "wasting time" To our parents we are "going through a phase". But to the script we are life
Me Self I Mainly engaged Sometimes energetic, lonley or fading I hope, I dream, I wish, I want I have finally learned That I am myself And that myself can fight for me
I am a lover of words, of prose, of poetry Something about the way the vowels and consonants create varying Syllables that ebb and flow, forming something beautifully aureate
Let me tell you a little story about a cat I know, That wen’t from love to loss not too long ago, From inside a warm house to outside in the rain, Nobody cared about her struggles, hunger, or pain,