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Jun 2018
A hand scribbles violently.
The pen carving through the lined paper.
Black Ink spilling out of the deep cuts,
Soaking into the pristine page.
Words blocking out the light,
By illuminating knowledge.
Strong, scared, and weary hands fight.
Sometimes writing poetry feels like you're getting ready to go into battle.
Danielle
Written by
Danielle  28/F/Vermont
(28/F/Vermont)   
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