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Isn't it astonishing,
   The amount of hate
That humans have for
        Each other?

If only that same effort
    Was used to threaten
The crooked hand holding
          Us captive.
Darling, don't forget,
    or regret,
       the depths of this pain.

Wild flowers bloom
   only after
       it's been pouring rain.
She's never been the type
that loves large crowds and
booming parties;
the stress of conforming
weighs too heavily on her
sensitive heart,
and quite frankly, most
people don't fall on the same
end of the color spectrum.

Everywhere on this earth is
home to her, and Mother
Nature is her muse.
A black sheep born with a
wild heart; an indigo
child infatuated
with change and fueled
by tranquility. She is the
virtuoso of her own authenticity.
She tells me that
she's weird,
and
that she doesn't know how
someone like me
would even talk to
someone like her.
Honestly, if she is weird,
then I have been living
a very bland life,
and I'd rather
join in on insanity with her.

She's got eyes like the
Earth itself,
and long brown hair
like the Weeping Willow
in October. I want
to see her morph into the
disastrous hurricane that
she claims to be;
I want to transform her
into the pearl
that she really is.

I want to observe her
and find out what
makes her tick,
and what
makes her smile.
(She's got the most beautiful smile.)
I want to travel to
New York City
and dance with her in the rain
until she is smiling to
the sky again.
And in the city of bright lights,
her eyes were the brightest.
happy anniversary
you let me **** your flaccid ****
then let me go
naked
wet
exposed
nothing but your ***** sheets
to shield me from your sting
"i dont feel the same way"
you said
every
word
a
nail
in
my
coffin.
Broken and barren.
This frostbitten air haunts my
Soul; I'm going mad.
And I'm not sure if it's the
Change in the weather
Or
The changing time,
Or
The change in me that
Is
   So
                          Unsettling.
"Black Man Murders White Cop!"
"White Man Shoots Up Black Church!"
"School Shooter Targets Christians!"
Media paints the canvas of
The world in black and white.

The canvas is torn and taped
Back together; the cracks filled
In and covered up, like they were
Never there. Ignorance is bliss, and
What isn't seen isn't there, right?

Unfortunately, the thirst for
Hatred erased all of the
Colors of the rainbow, and
Pitted the remaining, black and
White, against each other.

It's impossible to paint the entire
World in one color and expect
It to be beautiful, unique, diverse.
One cannot just take away the colors
That are vital to such a masterpiece.
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