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Literature Text
The middle three letters of the word “Earth”
Spell out the word “art”
This is fitting because when I create
The beauty of the world is where I start
The middle three letters of the word “believe”
Spell out the word “lie”
This is fitting because for all those who accede
There are an equal amount who deny
The middle three letters of the word “lonely”
Spell out the word “one”
This is fitting because I have felt isolated
Ever since you have been gone
The middle two letters of the word “life”
Spell out the word “if”
This is fitting because only when it’s too late
Will you wonder what you could’ve done with it
Spell out the word “art”
This is fitting because when I create
The beauty of the world is where I start
The middle three letters of the word “believe”
Spell out the word “lie”
This is fitting because for all those who accede
There are an equal amount who deny
The middle three letters of the word “lonely”
Spell out the word “one”
This is fitting because I have felt isolated
Ever since you have been gone
The middle two letters of the word “life”
Spell out the word “if”
This is fitting because only when it’s too late
Will you wonder what you could’ve done with it
Literature
The Way We Live
The Way We Live:
We all have our own little struggles;
Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.
A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,
I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.
But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.
I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.
I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,
And even then I'd never give up the right to race.
I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,
Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.
I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,
But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.
And that's all it
Literature
Where Angels Play
Where Angels Play:
A lonely spark appears before me tonight
amongst the struggles deep inside of me...
Should I give in, will I breathe in?
How much more can I be forced to take
before my soul breaks?
Shards crashing into me
letting me know I am alive
If only
I am barely breathing...
The moon lights my pathway
deep in dark, where we will fade
I've walked past the archway
Where angels will play...
The warmest touch, upon my skin
Wings that glow with sacred light, from deep within
They have come to take me back, to where I've been
Gone away into the winds, my voice forever lingering
Do I alone escape this and find my peace
wi
Literature
The Poet
The Poet:
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wonderin
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I just realized I never commented on here, wtf!!
I absolutely love this one, Collin.
I couldn't be prouder to have inspired you. <3
And I lovelovelove how the poem is so...hm how do I say.. regular?
As in, the repetition of the words in every stanza. Amazing work as always
xx Dzeni
I absolutely love this one, Collin.
I couldn't be prouder to have inspired you. <3
And I lovelovelove how the poem is so...hm how do I say.. regular?
As in, the repetition of the words in every stanza. Amazing work as always
xx Dzeni