'You Me and Poetry Scholarship Slam' 'me' 'you' 'scholarship'

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As kids we question We question the small things not the big ones Things what does this taste like, is there a monster under my bed
Education is the key  to get anyone to where they want to be for me that is further ahead: college, med school, residency. Poetry is key  to removing negativity 
Oh I’m sorry, Did my originality offend you? Cuz’ last time I checked the message was ‘be yourself’
The outside looking in Inside the world that one wants to leave Leave so bad but cannot do Do to her family, her friends  
  “It’s beautiful out here.”   I look up at Pawpaw “What do ya mean?”   Pawpaw looks down
I remember slavery It’s waxed into my mind Made lyrical by the screams of my ancestors Taught and passed down generation by generation
Speaking all came natural to me Just the same as the birds and the bees I always heard it was a reason that the caged bird sings That just never resonated with me
At first glance, I thought of it as a chore. Moaning and groaning, I saw it as a bore.   With my mentor's full support, I finally decided to try the sport.  
Step by step rattled breath by rattled breath with the things I felt I hoped for death. The echoes of dribbling the sounds of squeaking  did nothing to drown out the pleading.
Poetry: A form of writing created by compassion of the heart. Poetry: A way to create something from nothing. Poetry: An escape from the reality of everyday life.
To say most people despise poetry  Would not be a lie. For me I find peace in the pen. I get this sort of high. With so many trials and tribulations, poetry Helps me say bye bye.
Poetry is power at best which is reason enough for duress. It can take the form of many different conjurings, especially in terms of organizing subliminal underlyings. Presenting your feelings in an 
My mother doesn't love me                   constantly longing to dig me out of her belly, to be scraped clean like a fish in a market resentment is killing her        rotting her inside,
Poetry came around at the time of a younger me. One that was so happy, with a mind that was so free. Poetry contests were springing about and teachers scurried While each elementary student wrote poems in a hurry.
Shy words creep through the open slit of thought but who will listen want to peep through every living  thing. if not the idea of ones lingering wish     My hope to anonymously make art for myself.
This happened recently. I don’t know where my dream is. But I can hear it singing Somewhere…   Wop baba lumop a wap bam boom   It sounds so close to me. Should I leave?
You always protected me You were dissuasive And discouraged me from being evasive You bid me to be mindful of my problems I tried to ward off my imaginary goblins
Silent as the desert nightThe cacti stood alone,Wading through the sands of children,Plac
Happy Wanting to convey that taste of childhood...bliss, Before it slips Through My hands gripping the bars-
Tick Tok Rise and Set You’ll never know Who you just met   Pinch yourself, wake up You won’t escape us It’s what forms us
I began writing as soon as my young hand could grip a pen. Poems regarding ice cream and messy rooms outpoured  from a faucet previously untapped. I fell in love with words, with language,
Monochromic notes sit upon the table, covered in equations and remote symbols.   Sketches and prose hidden in the margins; an escape from the rigidity and logical voids.  
Paper chaser. Only thing that seems to allow the things I desire to say and obtain, are only fulfilled with paper. 
In the darkest of my most bitter nights I saw the plumes of great pyres the licking flames of my burning passions flickering  alight and it was an almost cosmic call
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