Surrounding Areas My Dear Carolina 

View of present time through windows and lights, 

Through ideas hugged bodies pressed tight, 

Until infatuation waxes cold. 

My ideas, 

Wrapped carefully brought forth warm and bright, 

Often die before midnight shows up in clear skies, 

No proper burial for imagination’s kids, 

Without shelter food or birthday gifts cease to exist. 

Fools, 

The fools who are not fools but appear to be, 

To the public who needs them yet demands they flee, 

Hated for not looking into the sky, 

Feels better when we look others directly in their eyes. 

Garbage to the environment I cry within, 

Poor on Earth in goods wealthy within,

Laughed and ridiculed regardless of the city limits I’m within, 

Never meant to succeed according to eyes but champion within, 

Surrounding areas I visit and yes reside within. 

Truly success isn’t rewarded until the mission is over, 

Truly valuable gifts aren’t given until the worst is over. 

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