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We are walkers of the dawn losing direction as the final star fades from the night sky- no internal compass to guide us as we lose sight of the Milky Way We are balloons children cut loose to watch soar above their bedroom window with the hope one day they will do the same       We are billows of smoke formed from catastrophes in our minds when our fears take hold blowing our dreams to smithereens We are the Harvest Moon suffocated by the shadow of Earth starved of the light which reveals our existence We revere those we see as greater than us sweeping ourselves under the carpet no account for our worth We discount our own gifts push them aside underestimating their power to save others & ourselves We walk in the shadow of our demons so burned by the chains on our own ankles we become nothing more than cinders where are feet once were We cry to the moon each night praying for a miracle thinking the sky is falling in & the world ending before our very eyes We are all just fragments delicately placed together by a maker on the Moon walking this Earth too scared to reach out a hand and embrace our fellow man © Sia Jane
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
Fragments
We are walkers of the dawn losing direction as the final star fades from the night sky- no internal compass to guide us as we lose sight of the Milky Way We are balloons children cut loose to watch soar above their bedroom window with the hope one day they will do the same       We are billows of smoke formed from catastrophes in our minds when our fears take hold blowing our dreams to smithereens We are the Harvest Moon suffocated by the shadow of Earth starved of the light which reveals our existence We revere those we see as greater than us sweeping ourselves under the carpet no account for our worth We discount our own gifts push them aside underestimating their power to save others & ourselves We walk in the shadow of our demons so burned by the chains on our own ankles we become nothing more than cinders where are feet once were We cry to the moon each night praying for a miracle thinking the sky is falling in & the world ending before our very eyes We are all just fragments delicately placed together by a maker on the Moon walking this Earth too scared to reach out a hand and embrace our fellow man © Sia Jane
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English
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
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