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Your beautiful soul deserves
so much more
than my shadows
8815
10w
I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.
Can only sad people write good poems? Can only broken people find inspiration in anything?
~
~
I've lived a thousand lives
And died a thousand deaths
Within the pages of my notebooks
~
~
.


(                            
                              )
(              
               )
(
\/
/\
/    \



####

and in purity

/ /          Rain          / /

/ :  /

We are strangers

We cannot find the way home

•      •

she laughs                                                      
                                       :::

::

  " home is where the children are playing "

:;

Rain

//                 //

We nurture each other or die



Strangers often find out something

By themselves

::

She laughs

( knowing she is always here )
There was once a carpenter's son;
he died by his stepfather's profession
about an item made of wood

He died by his stepfather's profession
carrying wood upon his back

He died by his stepfather's profession
with wood touching him
He died by his stepfather's profession
by wood with nails in skin...
Ironically this man of love and peace
who preached peace and
love knew about wood
by his earthly father;
died on wood...
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