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Literature Text
we are not born noble.
instead, we are thrust out
squalling and naked,
feather-dust fur instead of wings
and crowns built of flesh & bone.
still,
as the caterpillar into her chrysalis
we begin lowly that we may grow.
instead, we are thrust out
squalling and naked,
feather-dust fur instead of wings
and crowns built of flesh & bone.
still,
as the caterpillar into her chrysalis
we begin lowly that we may grow.
Literature
Metamorphosis
I wrote you a letter -
tried to phrase a suicide note,
but instead came out
with words that butterfly with hope
and blades that divide decisions
and not wrists. It spoke of love,
of that quiet desperation that I feel
when I am waiting for you to meet my glance,
your averted eyes poised with concentration. It spoke
of how long I waited to build a lifetime
with you, and how in many ways I still am.
It spoke of promises that balloon as uncontrollably
from my chest as panic sometimes drums from
my feet. But mostly,
it spoke of the destructive power of trust;
moment by moment, you destroy my barriers. I
mutilate beyond repair.
Literature
defeathered
and this is where we bury our hearts,
between self-defeating personality disorders
and burnt bridges and midnight ramblings
we promise ourselves aren’t true;
embedding our memories in forsaken homes
like it is a conscious decision to shed
our wings (reptiles don’t fly)
and maybe I am the monster of every
myth: wide-eyed and jagged toothed and
looking to regain a piece of myself the
world borrowed, many moons ago
as I falter and stumble over my own unaware
feet, wreaking havoc, reeking of self-acquittal--
all I ever wanted to do was belong.
dreams are flaws much like the hearts we
flaunt on our sleeves, and I seem to
have len
Literature
flutterhands
You’re lonely—
your arms clasped behind you
in a figure four, flutterhands flit
to tuck the loose strand of hair back
then to pinch the stem of an empty glass
you sip it anyways reapply crimson
smooth dress check phone no texts
type one out, delete it all later.
You know,
I would talk to you
if you didn’t look
so busy.
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Bits of this one wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is. This one's about growth and, I suppose, coming-of-age, in a way.
On October 13th, 2013, this piece received a DLD!
This piece has been featured!:
On October 13th, 2013, this piece received a DLD!
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Well, hello there *bloodawni! I suck at this so bear with me, please. Anyway, I was reading this over and over again for a few minutes because of its simplicity. Simple, but that made it beautiful. I always loved short and pretty poems. In my opinion, its shortness adds to the impact of the idea. It is always amazing, in my perspective, for a writer to contain such vivid and beautiful visions in a few lines and impact the readers with its idea. The metaphors are beautifully written, adding to the idea of vulnerability of growth. All in all, this is such a beautiful poem, and the last few lines have left something for me to think of.