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Hope

Although my thoughts are scattered,

Bruised, beaten bare,

Clouded, messied, and

Dilluted,

Each one has weight, as they always did.

Filling the room with

Great wonder, and fire burning

Higher than ever before.

Identity is something I have yet to find.

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Written by
ben-steer
American
Published
Apr 2, 2013
Lines·Words
9·41
Notes

April is poetry month, so I'm going to try my best to write a poem every day... and a different kind of poem every day! Today's poem, an ABC Poem.

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