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 May 2013 Michael Mitchell
David
Almost everyday there is a time when
I quietly place my hands on my face
And let them slowly drip down my skin

as I think

"Oh God, what does my Dad think of me?"
Somber and sympathetic,
the rain spoke patterns
you never could.
Seams to me
mind  ex spands
with a words all the time
do think that some day
my mine will expload

Dreams for my head in this what is the time of mine.
 May 2013 Michael Mitchell
Q
Because I'm sick of deep
Bored of emotional
And the 'touching' poems put me to sleep
I'm tired of the tearjerkers
That used to make me cry
Exhausted all the fast workers
That made it hard to sleep at night

So if you're looking for something deep
For an endless well of wisdom
You won't get it from me
I've made my share of those and then some
I'm retiring from the business
Of poems that hit the heart
Because my heart's a bit black and blue
So I'll find another art

Perhaps I'll make you laugh
With silly little tales
Perhaps I'll make you mad
Until you rant and rail
On how bad a writer I am
But at least you'll soon see
That no matter what I do
You get no tearjerkers from me

You want to ponder yourself?
So be it!
Do so when I'm not around
Because when you start spouting philosophy
I'll be the first to skip town
So if you're just as sick as me
Of all the contemplating frowns
Pick up the happy script
And put those sad poems down
It's almost summer, where's your cheer?
won't you fall for me?
i'll gladly fall for you.
I can't fall in love...
I can't even fall asleep.
I'm working on the title. It doesn't seem to fit. Suggestions?
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