serial (edgargaravitodavinci)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem by Daniel A. Rogers

Submitted: October 09, 2013

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Submitted: October 09, 2013

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They have a desire it's one that wont tire and their emotions are hecticly wired Their thought process is wack and out of line they think about it all the time an obsession they find sweeter than lime. I find them as smart with an illness so tart and for some reason I find that it intrigues my mind but I've not the courage to start To me they have a talent that's sick I may sound like a prick but this hobby requires some witt and it i must admit that I think in their category I fit I may be insane but if me they could train maybe my life wouldn't seem so plain I hate being tame I'm ready for fame is that really something you can blame It's a game full of shame where no one knows your name and the players think the same Thinking I know what you are sane this mans mind is from far and his heart must be black as tar But you've got the wrong thought and no urges have I fought and what stops me isn't getting caught I guess what I'm saying is no games will I be playing but but while I'm laying in tire for their souls I'll be praying 'cause them I sickly admire


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