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Literature Text
THE BURNING OF LITERATURE.//
A red tear slowly slips down her cheek
As she looks to see a heartless freak
Who's burning her quotes, her poems, her stories
All that was left was awfully gory
The ashes lay on the tear stained ground
The pages all burnt into a pitch black mound
She falls to the ground with grief and sorrow
Not wanting to live another day, another tomorrow
She grabs a handful of ashes and rubs it in her hands
Staining her palm to make it as black as she can
Using her tears, she cleaned her palm
Even though, not all, was calm
The arsonist laughed hysterically with joy
And kicked the ashes like a useless toy
He slammed the door behind him as quick as he can
Leaving the girl alone because that was his plan
Then she found a pencil that rolled on the floor.
She picked it up hoping to find more
Then an object floated towards the girl
It was a piece of paper in a curl
She grabbed her treasures and began to write
About this frightful day and frightful night.
A red tear slowly slips down her cheek
As she looks to see a heartless freak
Who's burning her quotes, her poems, her stories
All that was left was awfully gory
The ashes lay on the tear stained ground
The pages all burnt into a pitch black mound
She falls to the ground with grief and sorrow
Not wanting to live another day, another tomorrow
She grabs a handful of ashes and rubs it in her hands
Staining her palm to make it as black as she can
Using her tears, she cleaned her palm
Even though, not all, was calm
The arsonist laughed hysterically with joy
And kicked the ashes like a useless toy
He slammed the door behind him as quick as he can
Leaving the girl alone because that was his plan
Then she found a pencil that rolled on the floor.
She picked it up hoping to find more
Then an object floated towards the girl
It was a piece of paper in a curl
She grabbed her treasures and began to write
About this frightful day and frightful night.
Literature
.reconnaitre.
she dances with the wind, not understanding
any of my cares, and yet - she cares
for all of them. I tell her "I deserve better than this
old abyss again and again."
and I am tired enough for an entire forest, but
old pine, mother of wings, stands still and
nurtures many things (me being the smallest of them, only
a whisper of a girl), and in whispers I learn
how to nurture something
not fire or dark, something like roots
or strong rainstorms
or the slow patience, the unafraid confidence that lets her stand tall
and be touched by nothing but wind
and sunshine and all the good things,
none of them human, none of them harm.
one day, I will st
Literature
sadness
It was everywhere, in the streets and houses,
on farms and now in the air itself.
It had come from history and we were history
so it had come from us.
I told my artist friends who courted it
not to suffer
on purpose, not to fall in love
with sadness
because it would be naturally theirs
without assistance,
I had sad stories of my own,
but they made me quiet
the way my parents' failures once did,
nobody's business
but our own, and, besides, what was left to say
these days
when the unspeakable was out there being spoken,
exhausting all sympathy?
Yet, feeling it, how difficult to keep
Literature
+Demons In My Mind
Tonight
I'll fight my demons again...
My screams
Will die
When my tears
Will make their way
Down my face
Leaving tracks behind...
Tonight
I'll give in
To the demons in my mind...
I'll do anything
They tell me to do...
I'll grab the razor
And write everything
On these blue walls with my blood...
Next morning
You'll find me
Lying on my red bed
With red tears in my eyes...
You'll find my message
Written on these pale walls
And you'll cry
Just like I did...
'I see them coming...
This time I can't do anything...
They came for me
To take me away...
To these whoso demons didn't take over:
Always
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Enjoy the horrible rhyming ahahaha
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