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Not In Straight Line

*pic courtesy - painting taken from pinterest. I am telling you I am not perfect My bed is messed up all day long I have been said I am nothing but wrong My voice cracks open a tragic song My closet has clothes that don't fit me There are times when even my dog doesn't sit with me I am telling you Life is not supposed to be.. What you want to see.. I have been thrown out, shouted at, made fun of,  everytime I want to change and be free.. I have been called arrogant, stupid, mad, with ideas that shatter... I discovered things that no one in the room thought but only if it could matter.. I am telling you That people aren't perfect and nor they will ever be... If you wait for them to align You will be the one being struck out of line Don't think every criticism is fine Some are horrific with absurd design So what if I am not perfect I can tell that imperfection is abstract Breaking the rules is not nodding to solicitations I have tried, failed, then tried back ...

There's not much

Thereā€™s not much for me..
As I could see.
Only the waves that left ashore..
Tides preceded to end itā€™s roar.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
As words felt blank.
Only by the grave to be rest assure..
Tears fled to bend the choir.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
But a glance next door..
At the forever friendly lad..
Who said you finally spoke I am glad.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
Only madness in store..
To keep breathing insecure..
While gripping on to a stranger feels pure.
There not much for me..
Only a tiny bird that sings in love..
Squeaked by a squirrel..
Get over it you arenā€™t visible as a dove.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
Only drizzles thundering rain clouds..
Distant giggles murmuring doubts..
That instantly might lead myself to fame.
Peeping through holes ..
Akwardly pronouncing my name.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
Since that life is gone..
When troubled by the stone..
Aimed it to break the river bone.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
A road driving home..
Keys unlocking storms..
Wrestling to open clogged up drains.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
Only stars that are somewhere outside.
Too far to catch them anyway..
Figurative forms of defining the milky way.
As night swallow the inside.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
But the whole sea..
Staring up to me..
While I embrace my face..
That got ignored for too long.
Thereā€™s not much for me..
Now I canā€™t make believe how..
Itā€™s me who stands and talks..
Itā€™s me who gets up and walksā€¦
Stop pretending to be the shadow that stalks..
Thereā€™s a whole lot of meā€¦
When you run into mornings..
While darkness lurks.

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