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Joy. A simple word, a powerful emotion, an unseen force. It need not comfort. It need not money. It only needs to be felt. Joy can not be taken. Joy is mine.   
He stands like power incarnate, as Right. With staff and globe, in light in dark in pride, He wills and I am moved--refracted light Through glass, as if my older self had died.
I was given the gift To know how to write But left with a shift That is just outright Cruel.   I can't spell.   Smaller words are okay But words like: --Inauguration Day
Walking past hundreds of people
what if we  were all born blind? what if the eyes that rigorously alter out outlook on life were taken away? what if there was no "fatties" no one cared how they looked or were seen as
Graced by pen in hand and mobility of body, Soul seekers stretch limits into endless skies. Solid lines mark a writers' striking presense, But never his mind's bounds to any extent.  
Why not write what makes you feel I write to understand the things that make us real It keeps me on my heels, my brain on wheels To keep from the burn out being the end of my lifes movie reel
The "Once Upon a Time"s and "the Last Week I"s never really seemed like much When such a better way existed To tell a story.   And when I took into account all that I knew about 
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