Books

The soft covers
and old musty pages,
crinkling quietly as the pages turn.
Stories dancing, flowing, fighting,
living through the words.
Time passes and hours fill
marked only by the silence.

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Strange Looks

I seem to get
strange looks
when I wear clothes
that aren’t usually seen.
Like bell bottoms
and poodle skirts,
or granny dresses with shoulder pads.
I really don’t know why.
What about
that girl I saw
comfy in a snuggie?
I passed her by,
without a weird look,
yet she laughs at me?
I’m not in public wearing pajamas,
yet what I wear is worse?

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Sighs

Sighs rise
into the air
like birds in fear,
all around me,
sighs.

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Time

I never seem
to have enough time,
as if twenty four hours is far too little.

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Poem

Sometimes,
I’m lost,
buried beneath waves
of nothing and everything,
hounded by dreams and ideas
and hopes for the future,
unable to think
long enough
to even write
a simple,
little,
poem.

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Wonder

How can it be
that so many are so free?
Free to do whatever
their little hearts desire?
How would I feel
if I were to kneel?
Kneel in front of
my independent will?

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Distraction

I sigh, distracted,
my mind moving along
a different path than required;

I yawn, bored,
my body sitting still
for much longer than desired;

I blink, tired,
my eyes fighting sleep
a lot harder than inspired;

sighing, yawning, blinking…..
all while learning.

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