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Literature Text
the bamboo plant is now taller than me.
its leaves bear scars of what i used to be.
its leaves bear scars of what i used to be.
Literature
Coping
Coping, copic, copper, coal. Gears turning, machines whirring. Faster, stronger, higher, longer. Water pouring, frothing, roaring, coping? no. In steps her. Building walls. Building thoughts. Building reasons, up putting stops. Reasoned roads now running round. Seasoned river in his bed. Slowing, thinking, thoughts thought through.
Literature
The Holes in My Palms are Not From Nails
I’m not a synonym for your past girl,
I’m not going to be the fool
who pulls petals from a flower
hoping I’d end up on the positive
side effect. The Sandman skipped me,
so I won’t rub my eyes anymore
to see you any better.
And contrary to my belief,
you were the blurred end
to a light in water-
the credits to an unknown song.
Some would dare to call you
modern art; but I know that’s just
a euphemism for too abstract
to be understood.
But nonetheless, you made it to be
ubiquitous, a tongue twister
for someone who was never laconic,
never ravenous for a plate of zany
to keep her company-
or just drive the
Literature
groupthink and gardens
we've grown so used to
stepping on flower buds before they can bloom because
they're a different color than everyone else's and
different doesn't fall into the category of "good" or "acceptable."
different doesn't fit here,
so we try and try again to soak stems in food colored water and
thick-coat paint on petals hoping that maybe our defects
will sprout some sense and learn to conform
and match the rest.
we took seeds from other gardens
and planted them in our own until our yards
looked the exact same as theirs and then
our flowers weren't a different color than everyone else's anymore and
that scared me.
i wanted deviation;
i had no desire
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Growth as a result of being wounded - that’s the message I got. The rhyming is simple and sweet - It’s beautiful !