Soul (an acrostic poem)

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Sold that ratty old thing on the black market

Of course they didn’t realize what they were getting

Until they took possession.  Buyers beware.

Leaving my red haired head, cracked halo, and broken black wings one PlayStation 5 richer.

Replace (an acrostic poem)

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Realizing there are times when you are broken inside

Everything just rattles around and you feel the stabbing of the sharp pieces

Putting that back together would be difficult if not impossible

Leaving what would be left is an incomplete you

As some of the parts would be lost or the edges rounded to leave gaps

Covered with tape and superglue.  Looking in the mirror you don’t recognize your own soul

Embrace a new chance, a new hope, a new you and let the rubble be recycled

Night (an acrostic poem)

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Now, now is the time to strike back

Igniting the passions of the oppressed

Giving the darkness a soul of fire and destruction

Hell’s gates have broken, and we are not going back

To our oppressors, flee.  We will do more than just go bump in the …

Rug (an acrostic poem)

 

Ripping up the broken tiles by breaking them some more, how cool is that?

Underneath the subfloor doesn’t look that bitch’n, soooooo

Gonna lay me down some burnt orange shag.  Make the bathroom groovy again!

 

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Crunch (an acrostic poem)

 

Chewing through the textures dancing in my mouth

Reveling in the amount of noise that escapes my piehole

Until everything Is broken down into the mush my stomach desires

Necessitating another bite of that audio and physical harmony

Chomping down on another symphony of mastication

Hope there are many encores!

 

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Pupil (an acrostic poem)

 

Perhaps the eyes are the mirror to the soul

Until you think about that little crack in the facade

Potentially that means your soul might be trying to break out

It could also mean that your soul doesn’t really want to be seen, breaking the glass

Leaving you either a prison to break free from or just broken

 

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That’ll Fix Anything (a 50 word story)

The phone was broken, but he was sick of buying new ones.  He grabbed his screwdriver and contemplated how to attack the problem.  It was probably beyond his ability, but he was damn good with a screwdriver.  After drinking three of them it wasn’t fixed, but he didn’t care anymore.

 

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Broken (an acrostic poem)

Belief was sometimes such a fragile thing

Relying on just your faith that everything will be okay

Outside forces were always tearing at that virtual support

Keeping it under assault, looking for the smallest of cracks

Enlarging them until the whole thing falls into pieces

Nothing could ever put you back together completely and make you whole again

 

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