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I signed my soul away with a 21st century John Hancock, To get rid of stubborn, ages old writer’s block. And now these trembling hands they do mock, At my crooked fingers and smudged fingerprints they gawk.
I “Nothing is set in stone; besides, I don’t even know what I want. I don’t care about your hopes and dreams; my needs matter so much more.” II
Why does my shadow mock me? Everything I do, it does the same, Very ghostly and crafty, I have to do something to throw it off aim.
Tender gasoline coats the meadow – You look half dead half the time, dear. Children dream of willow fires and – Why don’t you pick the car up, dear? Violent burns open you up from below –
To college I am going, to get my Bachelor’s degree. I want to be a teacher. It’s something I’ve always wanted to be. My classes require I practice the assignments, I might someday assign to my students.
Hush little baby don’t say a word Or daddy’s gonna shoot you like a mocking bird If that little wound don’t hurt like a bi*ch Daddy’s gonna abandon you on a roadside ditch
Surfing these waves of allegation comes easy to those born from the greenish foam that lines an undulating ocean