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Literature Text
Run headlong into the wind with me.
We are only ships on this endless blue,
without anchor, north star, or compass spinning.
Find me as I lose myself with you.
We are only ships on this endless blue,
without anchor, north star, or compass spinning.
Find me as I lose myself with you.
Literature
grow
To the dandelion,
In this part of the world,
the heart of July is frigid.
Frost renders the clay-earth firm as concrete
while gusts from the snowies
raze any hope of warmth.
Things do not thrive here,
yet this is where fate cast your seed
and you, unwillingly, grew your roots,
and became mangled
by what should have nurtured.
But spoiler alert:
survival is no pretty thing.
You are no spring tulip,
no summer orchid,
no autumn rose.
Though it shames you now,
the day will come
where you are proud
of having grown
out of a crack in pavement.
Literature
sweaterse
when you've a love
in repose,
all quiets
are woven together.
all worries and
worships and
weathering
kept, cared,
covered.
every summer
warms, every winter
draws closer.
and the silences
sweeter than
heaven.
Literature
self-organized
the fatal attraction of civil mysticism and the ingenuity of the perfect aspect ratio fit me into my corner so I could cube myself and bloom under pressure never ending as expected new cubbyholes to place in my belly filled with grief and relief for the mes no one wants to see.
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<3 Just a short one. <3
Comments22
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Yeah, I love this one. I also love that it is only one little metaphor. Sometimes you use multiple metaphors in one poem, and it can be slightly hard to follow.