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Politely I ask,
if I may please be excused,
from my own demise.
  Jun 25 ebonymarie93
Mélissa
Words weren't always
meant to hurt this much
but men were always good at making
weapons
out of anything.
  Jun 25 ebonymarie93
Steve Souza
like the things
that you said
(A short poem/mantra of self-love and hope for all on hellopoetry that are going through difficult times. You matter!)
Poetry is moods
A sampling of everything
Tasting of good foods
No sleep comes tonight
My mind toils till mornings light
Without my consent
Nothing can grow in the darkness                                                         ­            and that's why you've become so heartless                                                        ­                                             In  hibernation licking wounds of rejection                                       unable  to face your mirrored reflection                                               You've  planted poison ivy in your garden of pain                                                             ­                                           that  flourished turning the vines into chains                                now  you've grown with roots so deep                                                           unable to sow, unable to reap
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