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Rivers of love flow from her letters
I bathe in her words such beautiful weather
All that I am and all that’s to come
I promise her love, my living life sum

She appeals to my senses like a basket of flowers
Love raining down like a gentle spring shower
A star in the night just south of the sky
A stairway to Eden in her sparkling eyes

The sweetness of honey, the dew of the mist
The warmth of the noon sun found in her kiss
She’s an early spring thaw, she’s a midsummer night
She’s a fresh autumn breeze and a wintry delight

To the innocent she’s a princess who guides and protects
To the broken she’s a maid who cleans up the mess
To the fallen she’s an angel forgiving all sins
Her mercy is proven, her compassion no end

She’s all of these things and so much more
She’s obviously the one that I adore...
Traveler Tim
re to 12-17
This is dedicated to all you HP poetess who warm my ever frozen heart.
Although our paths never cross,
Our struggles are the same.
my name is Damian
I am 15
I get called names and tease
and blamed for things I don't do
I am just a kid trying to live a normal life
is that to hard to ask for
sometimes I wonder why I am here
sometimes I know why I am here
but what always keeps me wondering
is people call me ugly and worthless
but why
I am much better looking
and I have accomplished more than most of them
I hope to make more poems soon
and I hope you all like this one :)
Why fight against the world so hard?
Does your hatred never stop?
Your poems sit here on my tongue
Like bitter lemon drops

What's shaken your compassion?
who put darkness at your core?
Do you scowl down at the paper
As you write your nevermores?

Why not try being happy
try some kindness one or twice
and shed your bitter cloak for good
defrost your heart of ice

I sit and read your poems
and I wonder who's behind
this anger oozing through the screen
but the truth I'll never find

So I say to you good lady
Get a grip, some therapy
and let a little light in
to your tower of misery.
To she I fear to name :-)
War is not the answer
for no matter how you try
For every evil one you ****
One thousand innocents will die
The poet sits in lamplit gloom
alone in ebb and flow
how strange it seems to write of love
but never feel it's glow

A sigh, a lie, a broken heart,
a kiss on untouched skin
yet still this writers heart it sits
uncharted deep within.

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
and stares at paper bare,
then puts to it her broken heart
and leaves it bleeding there.
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