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An urge to escape, fastened with a belt Senses of conflict, preparing to melt Imagine a life concealed as a boy Thought upon others dancing with joy Feelings of envy?, questions?, and hopes? The life of a female tied up in ropes Cut me some slack, to emerge from this shell With the strength to stand up, whenever I fell Forget what they said, they're stuck on rewind Attempt to look forward, and leave them behind Letting the sand seep through the glass Each grain of sand, a day in the past Setting the scene in dark shades of grey My very own painting intended this way Although I did say, that's what I intend Fine traces of colour mix into the blend They bleed and descend, like inside a dream No need to pretend, if you know what I mean? Unlocking a shutter, to view the next stage That's just the book cover, before the next page Was I on the verge of a long waiting game? As all of the pages were numbered the same A feeling of doubtfulness hit at close range And half the way through, I noticed a change But as I look back, in outbursts of laughter My worries had vanished into the next chapter This story I told, is split into two And it starts with the old, revealing the new A lesson that change is both patience and time As every grey cloud has a fine silver line My last stroke of paint, lets give it a chance? And it's signed at the bottom By Claire Torrance
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
My Final Piece
An urge to escape, fastened with a belt Senses of conflict, preparing to melt Imagine a life concealed as a boy Thought upon others dancing with joy Feelings of envy?, questions?, and hopes? The life of a female tied up in ropes Cut me some slack, to emerge from this shell With the strength to stand up, whenever I fell Forget what they said, they're stuck on rewind Attempt to look forward, and leave them behind Letting the sand seep through the glass Each grain of sand, a day in the past Setting the scene in dark shades of grey My very own painting intended this way Although I did say, that's what I intend Fine traces of colour mix into the blend They bleed and descend, like inside a dream No need to pretend, if you know what I mean? Unlocking a shutter, to view the next stage That's just the book cover, before the next page Was I on the verge of a long waiting game? As all of the pages were numbered the same A feeling of doubtfulness hit at close range And half the way through, I noticed a change But as I look back, in outbursts of laughter My worries had vanished into the next chapter This story I told, is split into two And it starts with the old, revealing the new A lesson that change is both patience and time As every grey cloud has a fine silver line My last stroke of paint, lets give it a chance? And it's signed at the bottom By Claire Torrance
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
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