My Blanket
Many writers
All ones I respect
The funny thing is
They are not writers
They are cold mathematicians
These people, they don’t care
About the emotions behind writing
All they care about is Adding a word here
Subtracting a word there
They sum up my passion
In the number six
While they give some other
Little cute girls a nine
When there was no poetry
Only a skit
I am so tired
So sick of it
I don’t care about being cold
I want it just to be warm
I want to feel the heat in my writing
I want to find comfort in the words
Spiraling across my page
Like turning my back to the fire
I want that warmth
I want to feel it
Until I almost cant stand it anymore
Then I remember how cold it is outside
The little circle of the fire of my work
I see
All these people
In cold writing
Cold emotions
I throw them this poem
To cover them













Comments
--
Latter-day Saints: [link]
Please adopt your next pet from the Humane Society. [link]
--
Love and hate are the same in the same way up and down are the same, both are directions that go different ways.
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You don't know me.
So don't act like you do.
Don't ask me either,
'Cause I too don't have a clue.
... Evelyn ...
--
Love and hate are the same in the same way up and down are the same, both are directions that go different ways.
--
You don't know me.
So don't act like you do.
Don't ask me either,
'Cause I too don't have a clue.
... Evelyn ...
--
Love and hate are the same in the same way up and down are the same, both are directions that go different ways.
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