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Jan 02
poem 2 comments
LadyMidnight

Imagination

If I fell into my writing
The world would swirl around me 
And words would come together and build their meaning.
Deep oceans would open up and mountains would grow tall and brush the sky.
Rivers would rush toward the horizon.
Clouds would float lazily through the sky,
The background to a spectacular sunrise.
Creatures that no one has dreamed of would pop into existence.
The stars would twinkle brightly and anything you wished for would come true.
I would be immersed in a world of senses that no one else could ever find.
Everything would be so familiar
Like a stuffed animal that you loved and you discover it in a box in your attic.
I would smile and escape the burning world behind me.
The people in this world will stop living 
And start existing.
But when the history books are written, 
We will be remembered.
Because us writers?
We lived.
Oh, how we lived.
 
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Posted: 01.02.19
About the Author: LadyMidnight
"There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway
MSG / CONTACT
RECENT LOVES
  • Playwriting at YWP!
  • A Different Kind of Superpower
  • PRIVILEGE
  • Thoughts on my sleeve
  • the modern snow queen.
RECENT COMMENTS
  • So excited!!!!
  • I glad you like it! Church
  • this is so cool!
  • Don’t know if you meant to do
  • I'm not technically a

Other Posts by Author

  • Night
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  • Dark Matter
    I say you yesterdayholding hands with someoneas the snow came swirling around you Read more
    in poem 0 Comments
  • stars and rain
    every poem starts with starsand ends with rainbecause only a poet dares Read more
    in poem 2 Comments

Discussion

Comments

  1. ShanRippWriting
    Jan 03, 2019

    I LOVE this. Wow.

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  1. LadyMidnight
    Jan 03, 2019

    Thank you so, so much! I love this one as well.

    "There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway

    • Log in or register to post comments
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The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself. -- Albert Camus
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