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Oct 2017
Lovely tragedies.
The more we think about them, the less we know
They are more than just confusions.
More than the stereotype that is given to them
They are art.
They are beautiful.

Butterflies cannot see their wings,
But the rest if the world can.
One might not think of their beauty,
Or not think any beauty is given to them.
But butterflies cannot see their wings,
But the rest of the world can.
They see and admire their beauty,
Even when they don’t believe that it’s there.

Lovely sadness.
An ocean of sadness waves over me at night
Shaking, like a leaf.
Confused, like a bee without a flower.
And scared, begging for comfort.
And then silence.
Silence is the killer of the night.

There is no blood on the walls
Or weapon of choice.
There is an empty mind,
And true sadness to ponder on.
You shake and cry, think and ponder,
But it will take over your mind.
Silence is the killer of your mind.
There is no safe space.
No place to weep when your mind takes over.
Lovely safety.
Your guardians are your protectors
Some don’t have protectors.
Some may scream
Some may hit, kick, or leave
Physical scars can heal
But mental scars, will never leave.

Freedom is your only dream
Escape from the screams
The pondering idea of freedom
Lovely safety is your only goal.

Lovely goodbyes.
If you removed everything you didn’t like
About yourself,
What would be left?
Not all goodbyes are a loss.
some sort of tragedy
Written by
some sort of tragedy  21/F/Iowa
(21/F/Iowa)   
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