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The New Guy

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The trout among bass,
The cub among lions,
The shrub among trees moves toward the light,
Hoping one day to be the lion amongst its peers.
One to be looked upon as wise.
As silent as the grave, it stood,
Among the cold dirt left behind from a tree,
A tree who was torn out branch by branch.
The ones who didn’t make it send a breeze through.
Holding the little ground it was given to.
Shaking it still held its place,
Time is a thief of
what could have been,
Caving in towards the new guy in town,
Feeling as if everything is waiting,
For the tree to fall and crash.
It still stands.





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Ajffmdp said...
Apr. 18, 2012 at 8:12 am
of course cubs are new, I mean they're babies, DUH! What? Are you just going to call all babies outcasts? Have YOU no shame?! And how can a tree be torn out BRANCH BY BRANCH? The last time I checked, branches were yanked out one at a time.  Who the heck takes two branches and yanks them out consecutively? They would break their arms! And that comment about cold dirt- of course dirt is c0ld- it's underground! I do like this poem though-nice work (smiley face)
 
marissak said...
Apr. 18, 2012 at 8:11 am

This poem gave me the strength to stand up to my cat. It's a long story that I must start at the beginning to explain, but I feel like it is appopriate to go forth here.

It all started the day we picked up Banana, my lovely kitten. That day, he bit me. He bit off my thumb. We didn't know that an animal with that small of a jaw line could do so much damage but then again, he was furocious.

After that, we were enemies. Constantly fitting for the last slice of pizza and giving each... (more »)

 
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