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Poem :: I’m back again

Turning fear to anger 
My nerves are better
Not sure if it’ll last
Cynicism on blast

The anxiety to be beat
Runs naked in the street
Knocking on doors
waking people in their sleep

The rage in my veins
keeps me going at a creep
Hopes become bleak 
But my dreams come alive when asleep

Not sure if it’ll last
I’m alive at best
My vision’s in and out
Gotta quit with this doubt 

New Poem

So, Janita, Marvin, and I were chillin’ in the lounge as we distracted her from her creative writing (i believe?) homework. Anyways, she had to write a paper about what she thought a poem was to her and then write a poem about a poem.  Marvin and I decided we wanted to give it a try as well.  Well, here’s mine!  And I dedicate it to basicallynita.

A poem is a collection of cures for the soul to rehearse and immerse

An outlet of creation

A sea of passion

Life seething inside and wrestling with reason

Unleashing the words

Feeling it pass through, releasing the deep rooted curses

This set of rhythyms and rhymes hidden and bound

until the day it sees light and a curious brow

For then, the writers purpose is complete

Feeding the world with his life long fight

Before his final bow, goodnight.

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