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Literature Text
My dear, with the green eyes,
That pierce my soul with
Catastrophic intensity,
Leaving me naked under
A glance of moss and mud.
My darling, with the brunette curls,
That brush against my collar bones,
And leave me wanting another touch,
Another curl against my cheek.
My love with the worried gaze,
Undressing my fears,
And leaving me lost
Along the sand dunes.
My dear, with the mossy eyes,
That undress my every disguise.
You forgot to forget my final lies.
That pierce my soul with
Catastrophic intensity,
Leaving me naked under
A glance of moss and mud.
My darling, with the brunette curls,
That brush against my collar bones,
And leave me wanting another touch,
Another curl against my cheek.
My love with the worried gaze,
Undressing my fears,
And leaving me lost
Along the sand dunes.
My dear, with the mossy eyes,
That undress my every disguise.
You forgot to forget my final lies.
Literature
Depression
This feeling, it pollutes my very core
Leaving it rotted and tearing apart piece after piece.
It is a black thing, corrupting everything it brushes against
Leaving me in a will drained state.
Depression; a tired rage or sadness
No one has come to understand.
A flash of pain follows every thought of family and friends,
Leaving me with my head in my hands begging for an end.
I have not a single word, not a flick of my tongue;
That can even come close to describing how I feel.
My whole body feels like it is cracking into pieces
Planning to leave me as nothing more than a face smiling in a frame.
I’ve turned all that I loved against m
Literature
nervosa.
i.
i was six years old the night my mother crept into my room, spread a second quilt on top of me, and began to quietly brush the hair of my barbies. she laid down on the cold wooden floor, one ear down - as if she could hear the small specks of dust moving across the downstairs hardwood.
"we're moving to waterford," she said, staring fondly at my lovingly-kept pocahontas doll. i hadn't seen her swipe it, and she played with the silky ends of the doll's purple-sewn hair in silence.
"i don't want to go," i told her, bleary-eyed and whining, "who wants to live in a place named after water? don't they have anything exciting to name it after?"
Literature
Poetry by Korial Fox
Seventh Element
Water could be calm and stormy,
Never flows the way it seems,
Always caring and acts so friendly,
With great courage guards it's dreams.
Burning with great hope and desire,
Warming and beloved friend,
Always shy and blushing, that's fire,
It will be with you to the end.
Wings of freedom, wind wants to fly,
Person afraid of showing it's smile,
Tries reach the stars and touch the sky,
Walking on a path of endless mile.
Happy, by nature playful heart,
In peace grows very slowly,
Earth knows, it's very smart,
It never makes others feel lonely.
Like brightest sun light shines to you,
Leads those who are lost on ri
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(you forgot to forget my final lies, )
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Comments5
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A wonderful piece, well done ^.^