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ryla
ryla
"if i could see past your crescent moon smile then maybe, just maybe, i could find you a wonderland" r.c.
i was handed a bouquet of roses already wilted and black but i painted them red and lied to the world saying they were beautiful the rot followed me wherever i went no one else could recognize the scent so i sprayed perfume and told myself they'd be alive tomorrow soon the paint chipped away and the perfume wore off and i was left with these terrible, horrible, wilted roses i brought them to my mother hoping she had a remedy but instead she pulled a bouquet of roses from behind her back and they were as terrible as horrible and as wilted as mine but she told me they were beautiful because as they wilted she stayed alive
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
roses
blades of determination, growing taller, even as they die the crunch of broken lives made of dry, empty, lonely, lost souls bent, broken, gone
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
out the classroom window
crescent moon smiles light the path ahead ‘we’re all mad here’ laughed the voices in your head strange creatures of Wonderland transform before your eyes nothing is the same because everything that you think is real is a lie don’t pretend you have any control we all know you’re insane follow the rabbit hole down to Wonderland get lost in the madness let it enter your veins
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
crescent moon smiles
idle, shiftless, indolent not a care in the world a white oblivion of simple, peaceful, blissful nothing looming, threatening, impending charged with energy electricity just hours away gray consciousness and lazy days hair-raising, spine-chilling, nerve-racking strikes of pure shock mother nature’s roars reverberating off the blackened firmament drops of liquid vigor crashing to the ground
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
cloudy days