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Ellowyn Rose Jan 2019
And after the words you’ve said
to knock me down
and cast a spear at my heart
I run back to you
as the pain
is my familiarity.
Ellowyn Rose Jan 2019
The salty, warm wind
Fills the quiet forest below
I taste the sweet scent of rusting earth
Beneath my cold, cold toes
An ocean of freedom
A desert of hope
Such a peaceful place
For a white rose to grow

but its thorns show its fear
Of the dark side I now know
The one you must only be patient
To ever experience grow
For I recently realized
That a sweet, warm forest
Can grow bitterly cold

— The End —