Perception


I could say a bunch of
Positive stuff, and convince
You that I'm a good person.
I could tell you sad things
that would darken the mood.
I could be neutral as if nothing affects me
Either way.
Silent,
And no eye contact as if I
Do not hear a word that you say.
I could raise my voice, to be certain
You can hear me.
I could respect you as life
That ought to be cherished dearly
But what does that look like?
And what would that entail?
If everyone was accepted and respected
Without betrayal.
It takes all types
Love and Hate
Part of hat makes the world great.
Options, choices, being able to believe.
Adaption, voices with new ideas.
What seems like fate started as a dream.
Perception, deception, the tone i use when i talk.
Deflection, interception, to hold a lovers hand as i walk
Sex, money, power,
Seconds, minutes, hours.
Fakes, fraudulent foes for fighting, fiction, fate.
The twin towers.
Lemon sours.
Such a beautiful flower.
I can't believe that she hates me.
She needs to explain.
And so do I.
let it go. Forget about it.
That's what she did.
Anyway, any day now.
It was so simple as a kid.
Now i'm old. I got sweaters if I'm cold.
Sold!... ? But i'm not buying.
I made no offer.
I wasn't trying to fall behind
On my payments.
Don't know where the days went.
Cigarette, sex, and money craving.
Feel bad for me.
Tell me how good that I am.
Believe in me.
I don't even know what I am.
What do i stand for?
A girl that i fell for?
Or a world, maybe,
That calls me crazy.
Yet neglects that in my pocket
I got all aces.

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This Poems Story

This ones long... and i have to type this out. which is basically doing work. for free. like a slave. what kind of a ship are you sailing here. go to africa and ask them if they would like to sail with you on your boat. they will say no, no, no, we are not falling for that one again. because you would do something like that. slavery is not cool. and this here. is slavery. Do you honestly think that i could not use some dollar bills in my pocket. because i could. that would be awesome. but nooooo. here i am. a slave. shit. i still got to write this poem out. before poetry nation starts cracking the whip. can't even get a sandwich around this bitch.