M.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This has more of a Prose feel to it. It's a little long yes, but not long winded. Not going to lie The M. Definatley stands for someone.

But we don't get to choose who inspires us, we just need to write it down asap!

Submitted: October 23, 2006

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Submitted: October 23, 2006

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M.

Pain is an allusion a temporary reality none of us are prepared to face I’m open and I know it’s coming but for some reason I stay We stay in a place not meant for us to be in yet it feels meant to be in Before you know it you’re on what appears to be an island then comes fear Fear of the rejection, fear of the pain that from you (for me) was never meant to be But at times it seemed like the only place for me and one day I wake I realized that each painful event has made me more intelligent more confident My eyes have allowed me to see even though it looks like you’ve stepped on me You’ve given me freedom now I’ve found the source the root to my problem It was never you; it was me settling for less than I taught myself to believe You’re mistreatment was God’s way of looking out for me showing me That it’s not I’m not for but you were never created for me Interesting, shall we proceed I knew you’d agree By denying me you haven’t crushed me, nor killed my spirit no matter How vicious you’re intentions may have seemed You were no more than a bad dream after I wake You no longer have any effect on me it’s sad that you’re eyes will never open You will never be able to see that all you did was help me when I look over My shoulder you’re still back there with dirt on you’re hands and dirt on you’re knees I look down and my hands are clean my knees are clean the lesson was remedial for me It’s great; my memory of you will always be the kid who never grew out of playing games in the mud The kid who could never surpass a game like mentality in the long run you’re in for pain Not the temporary allusion I spoke of earlier no, you’re pain comes from the inability to grow What separates me from you I was traveling along and I stopped to play with you in you’re yard You were already dirty I made myself like you to relate but after one passes fourth grade they don’t go back They move forward that explains our misconnection I hope at one point you have enough Courage to expand you’re life and step out of the front yard until then you’ll will continue to be Another dirty little kid that values her games, her dirt.


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