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Pencil Poet Nov 2017
A flower,
She whispers to wind
?Sings to the sun, dances to the drizzling rain.?
A flower she breathes
?Nowhere but her sprout.
Cress Rosario Jan 2017
You would find her underneath the oldest tree
Paints on her hands; dreams in her head
Stroking stories she never told
Painting a world of her own

You would find her lost in the deepest part of her heart
Swaying under the sun in an open field
As the sunlight showers down her face,
Her heart drifts her away and away.
Pauline Russell Apr 2016
She was crawling inside her little world, hoping to hide
Her world and her emotions would turn on a dime
She tried again time after time
Hoping to find away across the widening divide
Over the knife sharp rocks of her life, she couldn't climb
It was her scars that cry, she was nothing more than a mime
Being thrown again into the abyss, it was all war crimes
Now she just laid there given up, nothing rhymes
Pauline Russell Mar 2016
She was crawling inside her little world, hoping to hide
Her world and her emotions would turn on a dime
She tried again time after time
Hoping to find away across the widening divide
Over the knife sharp rocks of her life, she couldn't climb
It was her scars that cry, she was nothing more than a mime
Being thrown again into the abyss, it was all war crimes
Now she just laid there given up, nothing rhymes

— The End —