Hell In A Hand Basket

Plays: 76  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 2  | Comments: 7

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Voices.

Created: January 03,2019

Submitted: November 11, 2018

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Submitted: November 11, 2018

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I get laughed at me,

ripping open my muscles.

I hear it every day, 

listen to it every night,

it all boo hoo rah,

I'm not anyones type,

they spit in my eyes,

give me new insight,

but it not touches,

the woo hoo rah,

forgiving,

words,

Sounds more like noise every day,

with the break of light,

I have no voice,

it makes me go blind,

and if they want it

I want them to delight in it.

Laughing at the sight,

of my slow demise,

I hear it every day,

don't tell me what you think of me,

I hear it every day,

I listen to it,

every night,

a boom hoo rah,

with no ears in sight,

I am not the crazy one,

I just enjoy the delight,

it took me this long,

to get this far,

and no one has walked as long as I have,

running away from the flight,

of my slow grounded take off.

I let myself, fly.

I know where

there is the sky,

and I cannot let,

the height be denied,

with a woo hoo rah

every day,

and by night ,

and a ha hah hah.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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