A soccer ball is kicked from a foot,
quickly rolling across the grass.
The grass understands the ball's duty,
and lets itself be flattened
from the glossy sphere.
It's trapped by a cleat
that rolls it away from others.
It chops it, spins it,
taps it in quick motions.
The ball is released again,
being manipulated,
but it's still given a chance
to be a hero.
It has a chance to score,
to make a difference in the game.
A soccer ball is kicked from a foot,
being manipulated, but still given chances.
Manipulated Chances
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Doesn't, Shouldn't, Won't Change Me
Short hair,
A t-shirt and shorts,
Shouldn’t change me from feminine
To “buddy,”
And being a girl
Shouldn’t erase the sports I’m good at,
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Words Slipping Through My Grasp
There are words
Begging to be typed,
Words
That want to pour from my soul,
Words
Who’s only mission
Is to be read,
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No One Needs Your Sea
No one needs to hear your jokes,
Your remarks or your sneers,
No one needs to be pushed under
By the sea that you've filled
With the laughs that you've drawn
From ignorant thoughts,
Comments
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