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Jan 2018 · 126
The Stoics (An Inspiration)
Ngawang Jan 2018
running on glass blood,
and our veins are as delicate as water.

This uncertainty, and cruelty,
do we leap till we age?

Oh and the edges are mean,
and our finger tips bleed,

but something about us.
        we'll run
even if it's towards the end of nothing.
Ngawang Jan 2018
I was born at the beginning of time or million years after.Something  within existence,
that I know
death and new birthdays and a timeline of casual fantasy
I've sold my weeks
I've longed for days

Between the woods and the frozen lake.There's this girl I might mistake,for a stranger trying to find her other twin,or something with reason in between
But I swear she looked at me.And oh,the way her cheek stretched
With all of that crooked teeth exhibited .Tightly our fingers intertwine
Her fingers,I thought would break bones and boiling blood
But for a rare time,
i stand and stare
and look at her everlasting ugly beauty
"Stranger sister,I've been looking for you everywhere"

And the woods are lovely dark and deep
Conscience and consciousnesses will only be a faint memory
Somewhere in between,I lost her
or she ran away
or I let her go

my youth has wrinkles
I count my days in decades
rising above and drowning deep  
     I will go on
For I have miles to go before I sleep
written in 2014, as an assignment in school. (take two lines from the poem given to you and write another poem using them)

— The End —