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That's what he told me years ago, when the hills first started to sprout in my head, beneath the sandcastles, and under built fairy huts, when I knew the world was round, but thought it felt like a marble in my palm. He told me, while I wrote a poem about a plant, and then one about dirt, because I thought all the growing things were beautiful. He told me, after my multiplication worksheet came back, bearing 100% and I couldn't have been any more proud. He told me, after he showed me how to tie shoes without bunny ears. And I believed him. The hills grew into mountains I promised to move. But the fairies left the hut when I left that house. And the world was round, but it looked awful flat. The marble grew heavy, and got too **** big to hold. My poems changed, I'd **** the plant, and the dirt was only ***** I thought sad was starting to Look beautiful. Math got hard, and I always wanted new shoes. Nothing grandpa said made sense anymore and his dementia-soaked brain went too crazy for my company. Still the mountains in my head grew, but it was starting to be too late; they were growing around me, and I couldn't move myself, let alone the mountains.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
Kid You'll Move Mountains
That's what he told me years ago, when the hills first started to sprout in my head, beneath the sandcastles, and under built fairy huts, when I knew the world was round, but thought it felt like a marble in my palm. He told me, while I wrote a poem about a plant, and then one about dirt, because I thought all the growing things were beautiful. He told me, after my multiplication worksheet came back, bearing 100% and I couldn't have been any more proud. He told me, after he showed me how to tie shoes without bunny ears. And I believed him. The hills grew into mountains I promised to move. But the fairies left the hut when I left that house. And the world was round, but it looked awful flat. The marble grew heavy, and got too **** big to hold. My poems changed, I'd **** the plant, and the dirt was only ***** I thought sad was starting to Look beautiful. Math got hard, and I always wanted new shoes. Nothing grandpa said made sense anymore and his dementia-soaked brain went too crazy for my company. Still the mountains in my head grew, but it was starting to be too late; they were growing around me, and I couldn't move myself, let alone the mountains.
olivia-mccann
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
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