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Literature Text
There are days where she
forgets how to fly;
wings all tangled up in
misguided heartstrings.
"There is nothing wrong with me,"
she insists,
"Nothing at all.
I just can't seem to
grow up."
The clock strikes
midnight -
she's nothing but
misled faith,
broken trust,
and withering pixie dust.
Literature
Show me what the stars look like tonight.
I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness.
The kind of darkness said to have made
shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes
& the kind of war lands made of
desecrated, dandelion wrists.
I am the wind, the morphine pump
& I’ve carved my bones into stars.
I wear them around my neck
like outward sun marrow
warming my carotid pulse.
These little glow-in-the-dark blankets
aren’t enough to stifle the sounds;
but my anatomy never seemed to fit
together the right way anyway.
Literature
Bones mend, but tell no lies.
You have cataloged your scars
like your body is a library-
to be read through &
learned from.
You think of
all the little boys
whose greedy fingers
graced
your pages.
You are angry-
none
cared for you
properly:
folding
creasing
& breaking
your spine.
They left you
on a shelf
to gather dust.
& why
should you ever
forget that?
Literature
She Dances With Fire
She dances with fire, a dragon in tow.
Twirling with flames; graceful and slow
She dances tonight, in a city of ash.
Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash.
Quietly mourning, as time goes by;
Where once she beheld a home in her eyes...
Yet naught but the barest of bones remain,
And so she dances, to soothe the pain.
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- and straight on 'til morning.
I don't want to grow up; I want to stay with Peter in Neverland forever.
I don't want to grow up; I want to stay with Peter in Neverland forever.
© 2013 - 2024 lupus-astra
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