the royalty.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
poetry from year 9. For Joey.

Submitted: July 19, 2012

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Submitted: July 19, 2012

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look yonder, look farther into your own eyes

turning and twisting into one you despise

with the hopes of a mongrel and the art of a theif

skimming the dead-black sea for relief

finding a person who will hear your cold song

whispering ‘cross, stringing along

dancing on water, playing to you

yet you love the soulless rendezvous, 

ignored and abashed, the calling returns

the pain growing harder, the more each tear burns

the more that you try

the harder it grows

seeming secrets is something that everybody knows

something about you that hurts in the gut

you should have listened to the damned, dirty rut

but who listens to you…what do they deserve?

offering your heart to get it on the last nerve

you go to the water for calming for peace and for joy;

ripples in each of the water…you were always just a toy.


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