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You are the snowflake—

In the sunny afternoon
Where you slowly melts away—
Still, when I look at you,
Pure and clean
Like a waterfall.

Slowly—it crashes
The sound—
The continuous wave
Where the water's steep falls
And down
And deep
And beneath.

You are the snowflake—

In the winter of December
Where you slowly,
And slowly—turns into
A delicate sixfold symmetry

Where you were as beautiful
As white
And as pure—
Just like the winter—
Where the coldness,
Can be the comfort.

In every season
There's you—different from time to time;
Still, when I look at you,
You are as beautiful
As the weather—
Forecasted—bluer than the usual;

And when I look at you,
You will always be,
The snowflake that melts
In the sunny afternoon—
And a delicate sixfold symmetry
In the winter of December.
...and when I look at you, you will always be the snowflake that melts, that transforms, as white, as clearest among the rest.
ryn Apr 11
I’ve had this snowflake.

Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.

Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.

So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.

In my fist,
forever it will live.

Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.

Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.

That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.
Em Glass Mar 23
I am melting.
There is me and us and the air between us.
The falling is the best part.
Will I ever start again?
See me crystalline, and marvel
at all of us different but packed, whispering across space.
The best thing I ever did was grow
into the shape I am.
I slicked the roads.
I slicked the roads
but in the morning I refract the light.
I am for growing, then falling, then rising.
For children not knowing how I came to be.
For curiosity.
Saige Mar 20
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Lonely little
Melting in my hand
A moment
So sate
So sweet
You remember
Of dying
To simply be

How I envy thee
Rupert Pip Oct 2019
These pumped up kids with
their sugar coated noses?
Minds supplied with
hand guns and prickeled roses?
Eating mushroom caps?
Raising tax? Running away
from office FAX
and paper stacks?
It’s a lie! We aren’t the
lazy generation of non-believers!
A drug ridden nation
of gamer streamers.
Who the **** said we don’t stand
for ****? We’re fighting
those that think that
climate heat is just a myth.
We ache for peace
in a world of
racist schemes
and broken dreams.
We’re out here aiming
so. much. higher.
When your mind is wired
by a narcissistic liar.
...And you say we ****?
Take a look around.
This world is changed
by those like us
that make a sound.
MisfitOfSociety Sep 2019
As consistent as a snowflake,
Counting up from one to infinity.
Free falling through this endless shape,
Contained within a finite space.
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