Posts
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Weaving My Hair into Strength
My fingers weave my hair into a braid
Twisting in the experiences I’ve faced:
The “girliness” insults
That say I’m not delicate enough,
The jokes about how I look,
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I Write, I Write, I Write
I write,
words appearing.
I write,
meaning endearing.
I write,
hope nearing.
I write,
not fearing.
I write,
I write,
I write.
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Nothing is Everything
I wish I could sit high in the sky,
Alone within the nothing,
Yet everyone in the everything
Laid out before me.
I could watch light be cast upon the world,
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Plentiful Beauty from Within
My reflections stares at me,
The imperfections shooting to my consciousness,
My mind brimming with doubts,
Thoughts that break down my confidence.
I battle them deep down,
Trying to convince myself
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Through The Cracks
Words can be insignificant,
Simple and small,
With letters boringly built up,
Written in unflattering scrawl.
Yet
There are words so delicate,
So precariously arranged,
Their syllables just might fall,
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Loves
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The Sky Was Red (No, Orange)
The sky was red.
Okay maybe it wasn’t completely red.
Kinda orange.
A scene from "Dune" when you think about it.
Just bizarre.
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Cinderella
Cinderella
With her strong arms
From scrubbing the floors
Cinderella
With her patience
From working with horrible people
Cinderella
With her kind heart
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Her
"Our hands are light blue and gentle. Our eyes hold terrible confessions."
-Anne Sexton
How naive to think glass shattering is someone breaking in,
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