Some are like starved men fighting for the last slice of bread.
Some are like bold words that sound best when unsaid.
Some are like seeds that can’t fight the cold to germinate.
Some are like pests that you have to terminate.
Some are like flickers of a dragon fly.
Some are like a touch me not, too shy.
Some are like a volcano ready to explode.
Some are like orphans all on their own.
These are the kinds of thoughts in my head,
In the name of writer’s block they are put to bed.
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