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Literature Text
We are what is left of nothing to begin with
cue cards read our emotions
and we are all a bit biased
We are the children of negligent parent
kids of oblivion in a world of ignorance
and all we do is dream
We are the long-lost friend who moved on
and left behind lonely lovers
in exchange for promises
We are the rain on our parade
we are the carpenters, too
with lies scribbled across our resumes
We are artists chained by the wrists by critics
who are driven by fear in dapper masks
fairy tales are long past their happy endings
cue cards read our emotions
and we are all a bit biased
We are the children of negligent parent
kids of oblivion in a world of ignorance
and all we do is dream
We are the long-lost friend who moved on
and left behind lonely lovers
in exchange for promises
We are the rain on our parade
we are the carpenters, too
with lies scribbled across our resumes
We are artists chained by the wrists by critics
who are driven by fear in dapper masks
fairy tales are long past their happy endings
Literature
we're all glass bottles.
1.
somewhere, there is a superhero meant for me, clad in a black cape and hope, adrenaline jumping in iron veins.
we could be a racing river, and no dam could ever hold us in. we could be a fire that no one could put out (i'd be the ashes if he'd be the flame), or maybe even a gust of wind that no wall could ever stop.
maybe we could live in a cave, away from the noise and pain, or maybe we'd live in the clouds and eat dreams all day. maybe we could catch fireflies and pray for the lights to stay lit another moment, just so we could finally hang onto something.
maybe i'd learn to bottle my fears and doubts - and then, maybe, i'd break the
Literature
the fluttered- a collection
i
Hear my joints dislocate, coming apart at the notion of sunlight. It falls and it settles in pictures of loveliness, golden tree branches and hints of leaves; of autumn, of spring.
I am so tall in the water. My legs are never-ending, crooked lines of peachskin- watching my fingers draw out ripples until they strain and buckle and fall into the cool. Ill touch my toes and loop my figure and Ill make giant ripples, abhorring fallen leaves and sending shivers of blue through his legs.
Its a faded crimson red holding my breasts, tugging my hips and leaving my ribcage bare to the current. Its smudged lipstick and smear
Literature
ceilings
01.
today a little boy asked me why i had d-d-dentists in my teeth and i told him it was to make my teeth nice and straight and i smiled real wide and he laughed. one day i might tell his mother that his laugh was enough to turn that fake smile into a real one, but then again, i probably won't.
i am the type of girl to laugh all the time so no one will know there's anything wrong, but it's okay, really, there isn't anything wrong. there isn't anything wrong. i am also the type of girl to use my tears to get extensions on projects and sympathy from teachers, who will shake their heads in disapproval but will still add a "+" after t
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I wrote this some time ago and figured I might as well post it here.
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very pretty