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Literature Text
Mourning doves sing soft.
Those that fly join them who flew;
You might catch it, too.
Those that fly join them who flew;
You might catch it, too.
Literature
raised a girl
i was raised a girl by well-meaning generations and wounded dreamers. i was raised a girl by inevitable justifications and greedy schemers. i was raised a girl always too good a student for my own good— so i smile in the face of anger remain patient as if my life depended on it; so i listen to all sides and hide my unease when none listen to me; so i give because i have so much and never ask because i need nothing more. if i want more i couldn't say, so instead of demanding change i find it's easier to leave, leaving wounds that harden into ever thickening skin. i was raised a girl: my girl skin now so thick i can postpone feeling anything. now, i’m no girl. all of this is just an ingrained, stubborn stain that may fade but never go away, like a bloody heart on my sleeve. no, i'm no girl, but somewhere deep within me is a cell with a child inside who, when I open her cage, looks up at me and smiles bravely; yet somehow I know that when I close that door again she’ll
Literature
idontknowanymore.exe
Helen stole her way through the implacable crowds, ducking and strafing, even twirling, a woman on a mission, her eyes never straying up to theirs for fear of what she might find there—what might result from those meetings. Having made it safely to the other side of the crushing waves of smelly humanity, our brave heroine turned around, looking for her friend Josh. Her heart started wilding harder than a zoomer in a nightclub as she saw he was not with her—they must have got separated! That’s when it happened. When before her very eyes, the crowds began to part, and out towards her strode a tall man, the picture of confidence, head held high and eyes at a level. It was Josh. ‘Helen,’ he said in his deep, booming voice, stopping before her and gazing down at his diminutive, womanly friend. ‘Come. We have much to do and see.’ ‘Uh— right. Yeah. Sure. Lead the way,’ she replied, eyes wide. Josh nodded. ‘Stick close to me, little one, and you shall be safe.’ Helen did as
Literature
This Too Fades
An even day with fading gray for the cold will soon come again as green wears away. Tomorrow will be less bright for fading light is this fallen way. Gold and brown a whistle heard as the Earth turns all around. Alike Spring once come yet turned around, time is mirrored just as my friend who speaks around and around. Autumn is now here for I remember how to smile, as melancholy leaves my heart today. Death is so near at hand for the green leaves burn away one piece at a time. To be replaced with yellows and crimsons, one last display of life, of our joys. Fall is not the final breath, this time is not the last years we may feel, only a fall back into life. O: Ah, my Sweet Poet, you speak again and without my call. Why I must thank you, to hear your voice again and so sweet. Fool I may be, but I could never bring you back with my cheer. Sorrow, oh, the melancholy you had to know, your pain is ours and all. I am glad, yes, yes! Glad you speak again! A: Maybe I will be better now, each
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