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Two cartoony tigers, Friends for life, Who live in a house That bounces all night. Two giants, Father and son. One smart, One dumb, One is mean, One is bullied. A pine tree,
Couldn't sleep, my eyes restless as my mind whirs in frustration. Why? Why? You left me and have let me go, but I still can't grasp reality.
All day Flowing, flying Through the shadows Of my Very Being. Thinking. Wanting To escape And find a Temporary home To stay in. Flying, flowing.
You don't own me.. My past is dead. It holds no meaning What happened happened. I need to be free of it; I need to believe in feelings that are true, That are beautiful, that are real. 
Blue Skies Blue goodbyes But don't fret we've still got plenty yet we'll throw  a plane and fly a ball Now lets all ride the Hopisticall He's blue and red and furry all over
  Simply Twenty-Six Letters
I walk through the empty room, cold and scared.  It is dark in the room, but not the door.  Underneath it shines a light that is glared. Its brightness is something not to ignore.
Do not use your words as knives.There are too many people with open wounds,Self inflicted lacerations,Bleeding freely.
Why do I write?
  I can talk a lot, Now. But it was poetry that taught me how. Before my sentences were jumbled up phrases only I could understand, With with minimal explaining.
      Poetry and Me By Colleen Preston   Poetry and me Just simply came to be.   Like wind beneath my wings,
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