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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To Be a Poet
To be a poet is not to write poems
No,
Most anyone can do that
Most anyone has done that
For school,
Maybe
To be a poet is to see a tree
And not just see a tree
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Taylor Swift
swift locks of golden hair belonging to—
a girl once invisible that now has a place in this world,
guitar stained with teardrops,
that is worn out by playing her song.
golden fireworks blazing from the sky—
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our own spherical snow globe
looking up at the sky,
i can understand
why ancient people thought
the earth was flat
and the sky was a dome
our own personal snow globe
only,
we're trapped in it.
now we know
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Rubble
The school's rubble lay in front of us. We were close enough to climb around it if it weren't for that damn fence that prevented us. It was one of those wire fences that would surround a school's playfield, and it was covered by a tarp.
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