William Sinclair Manson's poetry

You love, you hate your up, your down your in, your out you smile, you frown. You laugh, you cry you see, your blind you eat, you starve you lose, you find. You scream, your mute you come, or go your happy, your sad you die or grow. You like, you loathe your free, your in chains you think, you imagine you use your brains. you promote, you ignore you get up, you fall down you keep a poker face you float, or you drown. you smile, you frown you give, you take your either a real person or merely a fake. you rise, you fall you war, or like peace you enter, you leave you start, or you cease. you swim, or you sink you walk, you run you are either serious or prefer to have fun. YOU ARE OR YOUR NOT. Please checkout MY PUBLISHED BOOKS Please checkout BLOG PROMOTIONS Please checkout SHORT STORIES Please checkout PUBLIC POEMS Please checkout BILLY'S RANTS   THANKS OR VISITING.

Amy was just fourteen when she decided to run her life was insufferable never knowing any fun. Her parents abused her daily mentally she was drained she had to break the monotony relationships badly strained. She felt she was unloved used as a slave all day her opinions never mattered she never got her say. Badly advised by a friend to make off and never come back seek her fortune in this World new days would never be black! Vulnerable and lonely nothing was keeping her here she packed whatever she could excited without any fear. Amy jumped on a bus unperturbed where it would go dreamily gazing out the window finally she could grow. Landing in a strange Town she never knew a soul walking till her feet ached dying to meet her goal. She was befriended by a guy three times her age or more he gave her food and shelter when he went he locked the door. Vulnerable and innocent Amy took what she could he seemed so kind at first she thought he did her good. Then things start...

How did this beautiful flower grow? among-st  the bracken and thickened snow pert and proud in barren land amazed how such a miracle stands. All alone a singular treat void of emotion, treacherous feet carried by songbirds from a warmer clime ignorant of wastage and sealed by its prime. Glowing so colourful sweet smell of perfume avoiding the vases of humanities front room grow old my flower be erect and assured Carry the torch of environments cured. Warm up my life and make me alive bloom for eternity, germinate, survive seed for the pleasure and love that you give grow for the goodness and promise me “live”. It goes to show you do not have to have Superpowers to survive!!