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As time dilates and the tempo of my little bird heart slows, I recover pieces of self, cast like felt petals on the way, doubling back with a bug-catcher's glass, counting the legs of my days outgrown. I capture my child-like wonder on a twig. I spy curiosity on a leaf, speckled with holes bored by time that rushes like a stream with no regard for the riverbed it erodes. I step into myself like old clothes and remember what it feels like to be – existing for the sake of existing. Where life is treasure enough.
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Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 10:06 AM UTC
bird heart
As time dilates and the tempo of my little bird heart slows, I recover pieces of self, cast like felt petals on the way, doubling back with a bug-catcher's glass, counting the legs of my days outgrown. I capture my child-like wonder on a twig. I spy curiosity on a leaf, speckled with holes bored by time that rushes like a stream with no regard for the riverbed it erodes. I step into myself like old clothes and remember what it feels like to be – existing for the sake of existing. Where life is treasure enough.
Martel
Written by
22/F/United States
Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 10:06 AM UTC
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