Mavry Potts
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Early in the morning
the bird sings to all the lost bees in the tress and early in the morning the child awakes for there and then they must frolick and early in the morning the mother rests unless of course the child is restless and early in the morning the sea breeze picks up and blows us all away and early in the morning the world awakes to the start of the working day and early in the morning the person screams and awakes all who weren’t awake and early in the morning the police arrive and find the dead body of Mr. Fry and early in the morning the stench of blood haunts Mabel Road till the dawn of time because early in the morning Mr. Fry had died with his son viewing him as unfit because one late afternoon Mr. Fry was sitting And he looked at his son with hatred for earlier that morning the son had told his father that he found a man. Yet despite what you may have thought the son did not kill Mr. Fry Mr. Fry fell down his stairs and landed brutally on the bottom his son was at the door for Mr. Fry had finally accepted his son what a terrible story for what could have been a real apology.
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As humans do we ever notice the impression we live with every step in our life. About all the lives we are changing by mearly existing. Even those of us who hide in the corner, practically invisible, are making a difference. By them occupying the corner someone else can’t. They are forcing someone else to try to be social. Each step we take effects someone else’s life. Turned to quickly walking down the hallway someone stops suddenly not to run into you and then ends up being late to class because of you. Missing the first half of class to get a pass. You just made it so someone lost a small amount of knowledge. You didn’t think about that did you?
Hold your breath
The gas is clouding the air It will choke you Leaving you gasping for air When all there is nitrogen It gives you three minutes To determine what your life was worth Flash back on your purpose Step by step You’ll figure out The purpose of life In those three minutes I’m so terribly sorry It had to end this way But those three minutes Are essential to death. I've reached out to several members of the LGBT+ community and have collected first person accounts on what it is like to be them. Here are the results:
I'm not patient
I'm not calm I feel like I'm ready one second and then the next I feel completely unprepared I want to tell the entire world but then realize I shouldn't if it wasn't for that gut sense of dread I would have told so many things I often judge my actions on that gut sense I know I shouldn't do something when my insides want to tear me apart that wouldn't be a good idea yet Average
we’re all just numbers very few are what they call average some are below others are above we don’t know where we stand we’re stuck not knowing but to the people above our chosen names don’t matter neither do our legal names we’re just seem as numbers and that isn’t fine we’re defined by our past even if we changed juvenial delinquency haunts you for anyone who isn’t a white male and it’s wrong I know but can we really blame them how else are they supposed to know us our thoughts and opinions are not on those transcripts of our lives at least not the ones that matter we’re devoid of depth trust me no one likes just beings numbers on a paper. |
Mavry PottsPosts every Monday and/or Wednesday Archives
December 2017
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