Posts
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Is it so hard?
Is it really so hard to just be nice to people?
Why is it us versus them?
What makes "them" different?
"Worse"
We are all human,
all trying to get through our day.
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The Limit
I reach my limit from time to time.
whether it be at school or at home.
I reach the limit of what my brain can handle.
All of the noise of life becomes too much and I need to take a break.
I need to turn my ears off.
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Deep Thoughts
I am a thinker.
I think about big problems in the world and how to fix them.
Like climate change, evolution, the state of humanity as of now.
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Just my thoughts on the world
I am 15, that's young.
I have just started high school and am experiencing a lot of firsts right now.
Yet at the same time some days feel weird.
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The hidden fight
Everyday I fight a hidden fight.
you wouldn't know it.
I hide it,
At school,
In class
at any moment I could breakdown in a fit of tears
of pain
anger
because I have hearing loss.
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Moonrise
The sun sets.
A stunning watercolor effect paints the sky beautiful warm colors.
A last hurrah before disappearing over the horizon.
Then,
there is moonrise.
Loves
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Trump isn't an astronaut
Would you call the other planets illegal?
I sure wouldn't
they're just existing in space
but I guess if thats case
they would be aliens to us
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Hope is
Hope is the thing that boils my blood when I see injustice in the world
Hope is the thing that keeps me up at night scratching at the innards of my body
Because it craves to be free
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on hereness
there weren’t enough chairs in the growing room,
open as always to the prophets
& the wind. and so as people poured and poured
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But What If I Was?
I’m not a painter
But if I was
I would paint masterpieces
And tell a story within each frame
I would create a piece of art
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Thursday Evening Rain
Splish
Splash
In comes the arrival of mud season
Soaking into the ground
Helping the plants just barely beneath the Earth
Drip
Drop
Precipitation sliding down the windows
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Numbers and Statistics
Convinced that their democracy
Is the only democracyMy brethren fall heavily into the rubble
A reflection of my own clay,
A memory of our shared fire.