Posts
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DifferentYou were supposed to be different. The one that I didn’t have to give up on. Someone that I could rely on. But I turned my back and you chose her. She who wounded me with words and threatened to do worse. 
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Malady of MistrustCursed. Am I cursed? Cursed to tie myself to people, swearing that they’re going to be different. Only for resentment to grow like ivy, sentencing me to a place of discontent. I’ve called it paranoia. 
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GreenWhen I think of the color green, I think of the trees behind my school. In kindergarten, when kids were cruel and words hurt more than sticks or stones, the trees were there. 
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I made teaI made tea this morning. I put the leaves in, watching the steam dance with childlike wonder. I returned to my laptop, staring at a half finished chapter, the bags under my eyes more apparent than ever. 
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Moving on is for chumpsMoving on is different for everyone, and eventually, you’ll never think of them again. 
 Is what I hear from everyone.
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BittersweetI always said that it’d be the best day when I leave this school But I’m not so sure now. Sure, it wasn’t always easy, But I gained so much good: The best teacher I’ve ever had. The confidence I always needed. 
Loves
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To: Girl Not Named Georgia555 Far Away College Dorm 
 City with No Cornfields, Peach State
 661.9 Miles Away, USA
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on endingsand— 
 time
 (itsoveritsoveritsoveritsover)
 stops.there are 
 tears
 in
 your
 eyes,
 mascara
 smeared
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a letter from ninestars to my friendsI come here to express myself semi-anonymously, but freely and happily. My laptop is bombarded with tabs, one of which is YWP. Always. I may not write a poem 
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The Two LsAlways live with love and logic. 
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VertigoBody nested in the damp grass, 
 the sky gazes over my skin.
 Feet pulled by the still stars
 while the earth keeps racing.
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RoutineCreate writing medium or genre poetry body this is my routine; come home from school open to this the first chance I get write. Write write write 
