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A woman without a voice.
Her mouth sewn shut, by the ones who deem her nothing but a servant.
A woman with no strength to declare her worth.
She is to be given the right of speech by others who constantly steal it.
Her screams can be heard from miles away.
She is clawing out of the hole they dug for her.
Stay they say in order to keep her obedient.
She stays quiet.
One wrong look and she'll be killed.
She is a prisoner in her own home.
In her own body.
She wants to escape but she is trapped.
The only way out is through the lonely dark road.
She starts her journey.
Slowly she cuts the sutures.
One by one the light gets brighter.
Her voice begins to sing.
And finally, her captors are gone.
Never to be mentioned again.
She starts her new life with freedom on her shoulders.
With every step, she realizes that she is something remarkable.
Call her a feminine masterpiece.
It is so crazy how much I can invest in someone.
How much love and affection I constantly give.
How much time and effort I hand out whenever they’re upset or in pain.
My question is who is there for me?
Who will give me the same amount of love and affection I constantly hand out for free?
I’m not Oprah.
Who is gonna give me the time and effort I deserve?
I’m not a ….
Motherly earth you are beautiful.
With your green pastures.
And your crystal blue waters.
For the living creatures, you provide sanctuary.
A place to call home.
  From the dangers of the world, you provide a sheath of protection.
With your winds acting as a weapon.
You are beautiful.
With your divine skies, It creates bliss.
A feeling of gratitude.
For you give us everything.
We owe you nothing but our thanks.
For we will continue to care for you.
Even though it may not seem as so.
We owe.
For without you there would be no home.
No living creatures, that you behold.
No precious flowers.
Or the fresh air, that comes from your trees.
There would be nothing without your beautiful existence.
Thank you, mother earth.
One strok-e of paint can show a million words.
It can make something out of nothing.
It can tell the story of many.
It can create intimacy between two people.
It can create a sense of connection.
It can release the feeling of comfort.
It can make one angry.
Or sad.
Or happy.
One strok-e of one color at one time.
Can change the meaning of one's life.
They blurred out the word, yes I'm aware of the typo. lol. The poem wasn't the same without it.
Positivity can change the world for the better.
Negativity can destroy it.
I am a broken bridge.
I am lonely.
I am sad.
I was once a necessity.
Now I’m useless.
I’m a waste of space.
I’m a waste to the world.
A piece of something that is damaged.
Who makes everything look ugly.
Who is a disgrace to the scenery around.
I am a broken bridge.
When people see me they only see my flaws.
They don’t see the beauty in me.
My historic features.
The many stories I hold.
They only see the broken pieces of myself.
That is something I hate the most.
I am a broken bridge, but I hold the worlds most precious tales.
I am a broken bridge.
You are now my history.
You made me smile.
You made me laugh.
I’m sorry to see you go.
I’m sorry we didn't have our moment.
I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to try.
I want you to know that my feelings were confusing.
I want you to know I wasn’t really sure what they were.
I want you to know that they were there.
I hoped you would've told me you felt somewhat the same.
I hoped you would have stayed for longer.
I hoped that you had gotten closer.
That our conversations never ended.
I am not heartbroken.
I’m disappointed it didn't last long.
That the butterflies in my stomach didn’t continue to flutter.
I am happy I got the chance to meet you.
To experience your annoying sarcasm.
To get to know the soft side of you.
To get to be your friend.
But I’m not happy I couldn't be more.
The feelings we had for each other were there.
They were so radiant you could feel it through the phone.
I could feel your smile through the way you talked.
I’m sorry I’m your history and not your future.
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