Posts
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The Path
I have walked this path
many times before
and yet it seems
so very short ago
I was
running to keep up with
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Time
Blurred is the line of time,
Somewhere between reality and imagination,
That subtle figment of disbelief,
Coldly passing,
Again and again,
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First Snow
The first snow I saw this year was in a cemetery.
An old, abandoned cemetery.
The small, barely perceptible flakes fell,
Bitter as any of the old graves,
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Loves
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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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