Manipulation

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If I do THIS and you do THAT, well. Everything will be okay.
But if this happens, and it won’t, well. I was right is what I’ll say.
I say the words I want to hear, and curse when you forget your lines.
You’re so impossible to predict. Follow your cue, so I know mine.
I’ve imagined every scenario; this is the one I wish to see.
You’d make this scene play out my way if only you’d agree with me.
I don’t mean to be selfish and unkind is not my thing.
But when you do the things you want, nothing but anguish do you bring.
I’m not trying to change you, just to show your better self.
All that I say is all for you; I care for you like no one else.
So when I plan our arguments, it’s because I know what’s good for you.
Weren’t you the one who said no one else knows you quite the way I do?
I’ve rambled on, I’ve said my piece, I’ve said all I can from the heart.
Now it’s your turn. Here, take your script. I’ve marked the place for you to start.
To conclude; listen to me. This is precisely what we need.
I know that you will understand. Your own plans would never succeed.
And if by chance this evening ends with yet another fight,
You’ll forget it by morning, because you know that I’m right.

Manipulation

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New Fuel

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FireShot Capture 054 - Free photo_ Vintage, Retro, Radio, An_ - https___pixabay.com_en_vintage-ret

So many songs remind me of you,
You’ve become the soundtrack to my life.
A single note raises a bittersweet smile.
A chorus can stab like a knife.
But the problem here is me:
I’m the one sat here at this piano stool,
Mastering scales that I already know.
My muse needs new fuel.

Poem Of The Week: Phenomenal Woman – Maya Angelou

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Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
That’s me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Firestarter

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I’m the kind of person who builds their lives from the charred remains in flames.
When there’s nothing left but soot under my fingernails, it’s time to start again.
I like it that way.
I tell myself, I am a phoenix.
Rising from the ashes in glorious plumage, whilst all around me becomes mere dust.
Chest puffed out, head held high, eyes the colour of fire and rust.
And as I stretch my wings,
I can achieve anything.

But maybe I am no phoenix.
Maybe I am pyromaniac.
Not to be trusted with matches,
Drawn to leaping lights and flickering flames,
Unable to resist the sizzle of spark on wick,
Hiding behind noxious smoke, choking on clouds that are heavy and thick.
Never ready to feel the heat,
But somehow still lighting fires time and time again.

Perhaps phoenix and pyromaniac are just one and the same.
And firestarter is my only true name.