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Literature Text
Time has passed and I'm not sure why I write anymore.
I repeat
the same old lullaby
e t e r n a l l y
Until my words are dust, falling from my lips like the tears that escape from my eyes
And my heart is frozen and my body became stone
(I am a lost monument forgotten in the stormy sea)
I repeat
and repeat
and repeat
the same old lullaby
e t e r n a l l y
Until my words are dust, falling from my lips like the tears that escape from my eyes
And my heart is frozen and my body became stone
(I am a lost monument forgotten in the stormy sea)
Literature
Until I Collapse
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
- “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost
Some might say that following your heart is foolish. Planning. Critical thinking. Weighing your options. These are the things they drill in your head at their earliest convenience. While it may be a well and good strategy for some people, other people not so much. I was one of those people.
I grew up programmed to act a certain way. I was born nine years apart from my youngest sibling. At some point in my life I started feeling more like a science experi
Literature
Her Life
I saw her life in those eyes
with cut-throat stares
and withered looks of daze,
each lid half open
and their cores darted where
they thought it was safe.
Her pupils swirled as hurricanes
with streaks of rain
maroon across a razor blade.
Sharing what words can't speak
and luring in the
sting of the day.
I saw her life in that skin,
painted with a tiny needle that could
delve deeper in what she knew
and who she was, then what.
Like an apple tossed aside to rot
darted across were plum-hue stains
and beautiful scars, an abstract dance of
healing and hurt.
Covered in what she screamed,
her body was masked in poetry,
long-tol
Literature
Feel
Sand beneath your feet
You walk but do not see
Hide between the trees
Feeling nothing but the cool breeze
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