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A girl, made of paper
She blows in the wind
All her thoughts, written on her pages
Creative and calm and curious and careful
She sings, shyly, softly
In the middle of the night
She doesn't want to be heard
She wants to be heard

A girl, made of stone
She stands steady in the storm
Her face, emotionless, expressionless
Strong and stony and stoic and silent
She writes, fluidly, fearfully
In the middle of the night
She doesn't want to be seen
She wants to be seen

A girl, made of light
She shines in the dark
Love glistens in her eyes
Luminous and loving and lighthearted and loyal
She glows, boldly, beautifully
in the middle of the night
She doesn't fear being seen
She doesn't fear being heard

Girls made of paper
And girls made of stone
Hurt too many times by those who claim to care
Hiding from the world no longer
Girl made of light
Hope is her name
Burns like a spark in their hearts in the night
Whispering softly, gently
It's ok to be seen
It's ok to be heard
Found this SUPER old poem, pretty sure I was 12 when I wrote this. Randomly unearthed it when going through a box of old stuff (I'm a bit of a hoarder), and decided it wasn't terrible.
Unexpected  
Fast
Deep
Sharp
Felt it in my nerves
Ending
Held it
A few seconds
Blanched white
Then watched it
Slowly bleed
A drop
One drop
And to think
It was only paper...
This time
My reaction to a poem I read. It felt like a papercut
Re political loyalties and honors…
we can disagree about many things,
and I will not **** you, can I say the same

of you, my cross paradigmed other
in the dialog of judgement, mine,
as the extensions discern my worth
as a redeemer of idle words and time
taken for granted and wasted on movies.
Excusing any reason ever used,
needs ratiocination indoctrination.

Faith called to reason, why idle words
force accountibility, yes, shall every man
wombed or un, give a book
of life level accounting
for each idle oath, or adjective
or unintended verb agency,
promised, cursed or blessed.

Reason, between two or more of us, each
brings reason, by now, each who can hold
these words as self evidence, each word holds

a bit of metadata marking our agreement,
mental, mind realm, spaceless timeless medium

thought fitting word
to pattern, instantly, no time
cognationally global
in 197 Wikioedian verses
save, we know, dendritic
tie ins take time to loop
signaling connection made,
- We are the World…
intention flux determind antes
loosed with pre thymus degeneration,
T-cells ready fitru robotic single mind will,
to seek and destroy danger to the mind filling

system
of systems considered nearly perfectly, clog
sidereal desires, in you, wither the kingdom is,

not may be, if y'good,
someday under sublime
alignment instrumentalities
prerequisites, pure yes, intention
seek, the principle thing, id est wisdom

at your core, as any man kind called sapien
2.0, consexual reproducing drive, curious
too complex to not put through rigorous
imaginative allied consanguine lymphocyte
testing at the molecular willingness to smash
the vase, the delicate vessle,
after life as a star,
as a player
at a cosmic level, a bit
in the fluff at a galactic edge, pop.

Yah, certainly, one can unbelieve

any law about God, as explained to children,
any law about believing being mind hats given,

may be reexamined, out from life lessoning,

looking back at how people are paid for teaching.

Reteach the proven useful reasons for the uses
of the faith instilled in Americans by age 20,

or so, it varies, there are young Sheldons,
statistically more of them in India than in Texas.

Similarly there are more good reasons than bad,
bad reasons are often good reasons used
to believe lies with, like the guardians
in Plato's version of Socrates, secret
necessary lie, gotta believe, yes, so
Republican, by definition, a kind of
guardians gotta believe God
chose each one, specially
to guard the temple secret
initiation ritual kinging
of exalted guardians, and
the elite who know the lie, risen
into the rank of Kings secret service guards

almost privy to the whole truth sworn,
to keep secret or suffer the consequence.
Spilled will to open my window and shout about how tiny Earth is really.
When the twist of the evening
Has twirled out of sight
Through the fog
The afterglow of fever
Felt all night
And on through the day
You still can't sleep
Take 12 pirinase
And you'll soon be on your way.
The riddle wrapped itself in cloaks of wit and crowns of understanding

The parable parallels the fables with skins and lofty feathers

The riddle was obscured
Left lacking in explanation

Meanwhile the parable remained hidden
Left for future days

The implications of gratitude are like the hot dusty desert winds
leaching out the moisture
dessicates within

Then when the roots run rock shallow the fortification begins

Their indications of agreements entered into
are but less than followed through

Meanwhile the mountains of probability will be forested thick in their nakedness of shame and agit with the flux of futility

Then the riddle will be left perplexed , lacking insight it will not be able to see the forest for the trees
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