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Chelsea Spears Aug 2015
A raven, so quiet, 
Sat on a branch outside
For a chance to be.  

The ice made her move,
Her heart beat fast
The other ravens had nothing to say.

The feather in her eyes
Dried out on the pages  
In which she'd silently write.
    
But deep in her dreams,
She knew it would not be..
And gave up on her hope.
Again, wrote this when I was in 8th grade. No reason.

— The End —