Defeat...

Defeat...
Is the black box where your cold body will soon be laid to eternal rest.

Perseverance...
Perseverance is the sun-ray yellow against the look on your face that tells a whole story...
without saying a word.

Calmness...
Calmness is sinking into a warm bubblegum-pink bubble-bath after a peaceful slumber.

Frantic...
Frantic is the cold, dark red nerves so close to snapping, on the edge of your seat, clawing at your skin.

Aggression...
Aggression is bomb-black with a dash of plum-pain and a nerve-pinch of auburn-anger.

Protection...
Protection is the navy-blue safe house locked up with the precious cargo from the witness protection program.

Slaves Slay

Numbers.
Letters.
Forbidden.
Disobedience.
Pain.
Stolen love.
Laughter at the crack of the whip.
Hard labor. Or the crack of the whip.
Lost.

RAWR!

My pearly white razor sharp teeth so close to your face at night. My scaly back against the wall. So tempted to just... Eat you. You look delicious. Like a tasty midnight snack...
But no, I can't eat you. Because I am shoved under your bed. I'm unwanted by you. Unloved. What did I ever do to you? Nothing. Exactly. Now pick me up and put me on your bed. So I can take my claws and sink them into your skin. Revenge is tasty. And you, my friend, are revenge.
Thinking of the many bad things that could happen to you makes me smile.
Gravity could reverse therefore shoving you to ceiling. You would be dead.
Or maybe, that can of pencils could create a gang mob with your stereo. And they could just fall. And you could just... Die.
Maybe the smell of your coconut hair is what makes you so potent, your pretty pink unicorn lotion. Maybe that's what makes you so irresistible and monster snack worthy. My teeth could be like Chuck Norris' roundhouse kick. My claws are like the underbelly of hell. But no, unfortunately I'm just your stuffed monster that your mom got you for Christmas last year.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings responce

The poem "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," by Maya Angelou has crazy similes. Like as if you're actually watching this caged bird fret and mope. While another bird owns the sky. As if you feel the birds pain and want but still feel the freedom of the free bird in the "orange sun rays."
I really like this poem because it rhymes but its not like it has to rhyme so it really flows together.

Magnetic Poetry

Under her happy, perfect outside,

are secrets.

She truly cries inside.

She says, “Never talk with trouble.”

She writes beauty in strong situations.

Trust.

Believe.

Protect.

Love.

Stand by.

Me.