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Loves
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Something That Can’t Be Captured
The warm bark of the weeping willow
The blazoned hanging leaves blowing slightly in the wind
The tree with the warm glow of the sun shining on its bark
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To Wield Both a Pen and a Sword
I want to hold
Both a pen and a sword,
To find struggle within my words,
To make pain drip from the ink,
Trickling onto my palms,
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migration
i, like many poets, have wondered a million times what it would be like to be a bird: soaring high above the trees, unburdened by life's banal worries. something primal and free.
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Men in Suits
Norman walked briskly through the terminal, gripping his briefcase with white knuckles. The importance of oneself, Norman thought, was defined by the limitations of one’s vision of themselves.