Cyborg (an acrostic poem)

Computer chips and meat meshed together was now his identity

You would think he would feel superior

But he felt definitely less than human

Of course, now he could now bench press a bus

Reality was he was a ghost in his own machine

Giving him a haunted look in his remaining eye

 

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Pretty (a 100 word story)

Lincoln believed he was very confident in who he was, but still had this aching desire to be called pretty by someone.  Hell, anyone.  He was called many things, but never that magical word.

Finally, after a long time of searching everywhere, he finally heard the words, “You are pretty, Lincoln.”  It put such a huge smile on his face.

He wished he could have hugged the man in the mirror who said it, but instead he wrapped his arms around himself.  It might not be much, but it was a start.

He had to be the first to believe.

 

Image: heyprettybeauty.com/uploads/3/4/4/6/34468089/published/1433381334.jpeg

Lies Hurt (an acrostic poem)

Little white ones are okay

If you don’t want to bruise their feelings, right?

Even if you should be honest, face it

So many more times they edge towards they gray

 

Here is the true balancing act

Until you find where the white gets dirty

Really you are golden

Then you finally cross that line, and you did, didn’t you?

 

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Snack Free (an acrostic poem)

Soooooo hungry

Nibbling on fresh air

And that was not satisfying

Craving sustenance

Knowing nothing was coming

 

Finding willpower

Reaching for a cup of tea

Everything will be okay

Even if his stomach disagreed

 

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Clueless (an acrostic poem)

Clark studied the scene in front of him

Little things seemed out of place, but there was no smoking gun

Undeterred, he knew he would crack the case

Eventually, something would click

Leaving the perpetrator unmasked

Every murderer made a mistake, like leaving the murder weapon

Soon as Clark found it he would be one step closer

Sarah sighed when she had to point out the knife in the corpse’s back

 

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Silent (an acrostic poem)

She drifted to the back of the room

It just felt more comfortable being out of the spotlight

Liza didn’t like performing on demand

Even when she was paid for it she had such anxiety

Now allow her her quiet space and she blossomed

That was hard when you were master of ceremonies

 

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Glass (an acrostic poem)

Given his motives were so transparent

Linda almost decided to shatter his fragile ego

And she would have, but his daughter needed to know

So she enjoyed showing the girl her fighter pilot wings

She loved breaking his idea of a ceiling, both for her and her dad

 

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