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Literature Text
What is this
on the next horizon
holding strong against the wind,
it is a figment,
it is an oil stain,
it is something
less than a blur
and more than a photograph.
on the next horizon
holding strong against the wind,
it is a figment,
it is an oil stain,
it is something
less than a blur
and more than a photograph.
Literature
I Am A...
I am a survivor
Because I wish to survive.
I am a dreamer
Because dreams are my break from reality.
I am a lover
Because I yearn to love.
I am a seeker
Because I will seek for my joy.
I am an observer
Because I can observe my enemies,
and know the score.
I am a killer
Because I kill to save others.
I am a hunter
Because I will hunt for truth and lies.
I am a decider
Because I can decide if I can trust you.
I am a teacher
Because I teach the future.
I am a student
Because I still learn.
I am a fighter
Because I do not believe in surrender.
I am a hater
Because the world dispises my spirit
and wants to bring me down.
I
Literature
I Am....
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I wonder about the sheltered thoughts of others.
I hear the butterfly's wings flapping in crushes stomachs.
I see lies flicker behind smiling eyes.
I want to comfort the people in pain.
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I pretend to be the one altering lives.
I feel the pain others sense.
I touch the inner tears we hide.
I worry that individuals are in agony.
I cry for those who hide in a crowd.
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I understand not everyone can be blissful.
I say it is something the whole world should fight for.
I dream of a life full of smiles.
I admire those who strive to help these peop
Literature
Undeserved
I don't deserve to be an artist.
I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.
But I do think I am a writer.
I am completely, irreparably damaged.
I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
I weep over my lost innocence.
I spend nights
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Just a little, quiet poem.
Comments welcome as always.
Comments welcome as always.
© 2012 - 2024 FallingAsleepTonight
Comments24
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Concise and meaningful. Well done.