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How fragile is the little flame of hope, and yet, it burns bright.It is too strong to be stepped out by the feet of tyranny or turmoil.It lives on for..
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I walk through a field of melancholy poppies, with my big anime eyes,and hair as white as a crystal Moon.Winter's third child,I was an Arctic timber w..
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a poem I wrote many months ago, that is just now being read by you.
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a simple poem, a hard lesson for life, my modest poem.
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or something like it?
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Trauma is a lot like having Cancer.
It grows year by year.
It amalgamates.
It grows in the dangerousness
and seriousness of it.
The sooner it is..
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I learned apathy from my parents,
but deep down I was never ok with it.
I was never ok with the belief that mediocrity was the best that I could do...
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There is an emptiness in these walls,
beneath the skin,
the hallow of the soul,
in the pervasive nature of the mind.
I wallow here,
in these wat..
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Sometimes the truth is ugly.
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She was born to the Day,
but given over to the Night.
Her brain fizzled like seltzer.
Anxiety was a monster that she let in.
She was born with a ..
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