destination

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Gave of salacious self, your just due My one and only dream I wanted to come true Earthbound after a meteorite crash Healing properties within this castaway shall come to pass Wings has been tenderly clipped
There is a special place A place to live out one's full potential Away from the potent pills of soceity From unesssary noriety In turn igniting the passion inside he or she  
All we own All we want We forget What we got   This stuff Not worth a penny It’s all loss See the reality   You can take my money Take my stuff
What a feeling it must be, To fall and tumble and fly so free. To fling yourself from a rooftop high, To call your friend and say goodbye.   And beware the man, dressed in black. Holding a gun.
Here’s a silly poem I came up with. Disclaimer: It is NOT to be taken seriously. I was inspired by a Limerick poem which is meant to be silly and weird. Often times they make little to no sense at all.
Everybody is gifted in their own way So why do we try to wrap them in the same box Thinking if it works for one it works for the other but just because they are both white does not mean they are matching socks
  They say suicide Is a selfish act. Although I never could fathom why When it is so difficult to acquire the help one needs For when problems are spoken And cold words form in the warm air
I see my destination ahead, But the more I walk the farther and farther it gets. The road gets narrower, And suddenly…I hit a roadblock. I feel defeated and like there is no point in moving forward.
Why is it I cannot see myself as clear as thee? I look in the mirror and it is not clear what I am going to be. How do others know me when I do not believe the aspirations and destination that is meant for me?  
(poems go here)As the days grow shorter, the sky becomes longer
From the swish and sway of the trees to an unknown beat To the rhythmic sounds of traffic progressing down the street My ears are alert and my fingers
Teddy bear’s choked with duct tape remind us to “Please drive safely” Smoky with his grave-digging shovel tells us: “Today’s Fire Danger is HIGH” We wind through canyons with dusty, sage-filled air.
I am from plane rides at a week old, from always knowing there was something special about my family. I am from always knowing I was adopted.
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