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41/M/England   
14/F/phil    her eyes were stained with galaxies and metaphors: an intricate mixture of beauty and catastrophe.

Poems

A blue vase sits on a table.
I study it's color whenever I'm able.
It was made with hands,
Seen with eyes,
And it's full of stories.
The vase has fought in vietnam,
The vase has scaled everest,
The vase has tipped cows,
The vase has made love under a sycamore tree,
The vase has seen hard times,
The vase has seen good times,
The vase is made of clay,
And now on my table it will stay