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the sound of your laughter is my favorite song and it's constantly on repeat in my mind.
 Nov 2017 Soumya Inavilli
Vulpes
Grab a feather
                                            Open your soul.

Grab some paper
                                         Make it your own.

And a small feather
                                             Shall be a brush,

And a small paper
                                        Your poems' canvas.
 Nov 2017 Soumya Inavilli
bess
Don't call me pretty

I am not pretty

I am a warrior molded from hot iron

Beaten down to conform to a shape

To conform to a number

To conform to a scale

I forgave the people who ripped me apart

I crawled tooth and nail out of the ashes that trapped me

I get up every morning with a purpose to change

So don't call me pretty

Because I am so much more
a warrior song for all my ladies (and men) out there :-)
They're called dreams because that's all they will ever be
just because
it doesn't leave
a single line
doesn't mean
it's not a poem

just because
it doesn't rhyme
doesn't mean
you're not a poet

because a poem
is not merely
about the style
but solely
about the soul
Today, I am beginning
Only to end.
This body has blossomed in a field of green;
Has bled shades of red;
Stared at a horizon ablaze with yellow;
And now, this body will face
The bluest of skies.

Whether my skies are clear or
Consumed with droplets of rain,
I will always end up seeing
Nothing but blue.

Nothing but 10 shades of blue,
Until I see another sun set
Until a palette of colours are
Painted on the horizon
Until stars are forced to form constellations
Until a beginning of
A new morning.

But one day, my new mornings
Will not consist of
The bluest of skies.
There may be a hint of pink,
a touch of purple,
or a sliver of orange.

And that's okay.

Because weather forecasts were not meant
To only be clear blue skies and
Colours were not meant to have
Only one shade.

Blue possesses a fading beauty
Now unappealing
But never forgotten
It is THE last set of my own primary colours -
green, red, and yellow.
Once I set down this
Familiar brush dipped in
blue paint,
I will start anew with a
Fresh set of colours.

A clean canvas once again.

Today, I am ending
Only to begin.
thank you to my two best friends for pushing me to write again.
#smole
The thing with being
a writer is that when
you get to know people,
you can write an entire
chapter about them and
all you get is a paragraph.

- *But oh god, did you even
try to finish the sentence?
For you, I have written
an entire story.
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