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She
She is a rock,
She is a pillar of the sea.
Oblivious to the waves
That crash against her feet.
She stands tall,
Head raised among the clouds,
Weathering the storms
Enduring the droughts.

She stares far unto the horizon,
Surveying all that she can be,
This pillar of rock,
This goddess of the sea.
There is a power in words,
That lie in hushed whispers
As much as those roared aloud.
We are prey to the rumor,
To the secret our head is bowed.
We stumble over truths,
Ideals that are never spoken.
Lest the utterance of dreams
Dissolve in the real
And with it all hope is broken.
Its a little outlandish,
Dont you think,
To believe what you hear
And confess that is the truth?
Isn't it naive to think,
Think that the world is too nice,
That everyone's just as convincing
As your own nonchalant notion of life?
Isn't it foolish,
To fall in love
With the same broken heart
And still preach that it'll be alright?
Dont you think
Your life is much more than a period,
But it is one where you can be yourself
For the world to see
To behold
And to be?
If only you could open your eyes
To the things you thought were true.
If only you could let your mind wander
And set it free in the corn fields.
If only your ideas were a product of will power
And probably then see it fly in the wind.
Why do you hold yourself back
When you only have just this lifetime,
This short span of life to cherish?
Why do you worry about the petty things in life
When clearly you're so close to falling off the edge?
Why do you hide your dreams
So that you can be a part of some society
Aching to strip you of your individuality?
Why do you refuse to be you,
When this is the best **** person you'll ever be?
Lately                  my                  brain
has been fuzzy and I don't know
how to tell you in c a s u a l
words that I've got this
c    a    n     y    o    n
in  my  left  lung  in
the shape of your glasses
that t h r o b s  and  deepens
every time you are away from me.
What I mean to say is that I love you so
much it scares me,   that the fact that I
have  to  go  to    bed    without  your
fingers in    reaching   distance is the
main       reason  I  have       trouble
sleeping, that I am  obsessed with
the way your  mouth tastes like
home  and how  your   words
have  promises  of  forever
s e e p i n g  out  of their
endings.   Please  don't
f                                    
a            ­    
       l
                                 l
o u t   of   l o v e
with          me.
Preaching to the choir
when they
only
want to
sing.
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