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"realigning" poems
A moment’s inspiration to grasp a building thought, A panicked, surged excitement, now achieved, where once was naught. In plucking crystal thought from the yonder crisp, blue air, And coalescing mishmash into meaningful repair. To seek a path of verbage realigning phrases bright And feel the resurrection of creative works this night. In pulling rich vocabulary from within the concrete hash Concocting circumspection in this brilliant verse from trash. Annunciating clarity and a purity of class To haul yourself, abruptly, to get off your lazy **** To burst forth in immaculate and spontaneous wordage clear And blithely blow away your critics on their loathsome, leering ear. Marshalg 11 September 2013
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Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Resurrection
The snail strolls gently Realigning hoped moments A slow pace of consequences ****** and placed on tables Harped to melodic tunes Summed in upbeat sequences The crescendo boils to ****** The climb of beats and undertones All exposed and overlooked The onlookers astonished My ribs pinned out in pain I squeeze to the cracks of normality Attempting to slowly leap To see the darkness of winter To breath the stilled air Yet, a hope lived, a life seen We all shall make it to the end Crawling to cut the finish line
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
Streamed Normality
Mahatma gnaws at World War hungers Reincarnated forms of Wild West lungers Spatially realigning to a kosher and beloved state Krishna stands ignored, can’t help feeling irate Walrus tusks dig into the carpenter’s brow As an eight armed saint is revealed as a cow Scriptures packed and rolled, exhaled in suspicion Prophets praised for violence incurred, act of sedition
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Hebrew Hindu Baptist Imam – With Some Jain Influences... Or Just Cowboy Dan
We sit in silence, backs crooked, the couches' cushions caving in. The weight of passing hours and minuettes alleviating thinking in a miscellaneous metronome ticking to bring time to a heaving chest. Stay calm, the pain of realignment will pass. Burdensome they may be, burgeoning wings will free you of... Pressure collapsing this cage, walls torn from studs, leaving only this skeleton surrounding us as we find delirium the backbone of convulsing lungs watched, earthquake mute laughter marring the faces with jagged faults. The cost of cracking, we must accept the scarring permanent. Breaks unplanned infirmities, alone, our time line disrupted itself and the heavens came, tumbling down. In silence, we lay, arms barring our escaping words. Eyes overstep boundaries, slipping through the gaps, a second moment of clarification fractures restraints whilst beguiling brainstorms sparked our interest. Our tongues meet, shyly. rubies placed upon your breath slipping against molded clay. In sapphires you and I hold nighttime reflections of passion contained in coal, waiting. Ivory runs my length, bending to ecstasy, breathing shallow, asynchronous, failing to find it's end in persistence. In night the danger dropped us, longing that dusty light beaming down on the show, Act 2 is the comedy. Off. Parallel parabola line diamond reflections, allow for recall with brushed fingertips, horse hair undertones realigning smiles, abstract the paintings of today, of yesterday, stealing away tomorrow in a previous reiteration of our variant indifference. The wings of the demon opened in symbolic solace, fell far across this burning emotional harbor, aflame in angels' suicides. We've fallen, taken knees to grace, whispering eulogies the waves applaud. Sands wash away to cupped stone palms, caressing the troubled banks lost in time. The blood washes away, momentary marks, brown, stained, it passes. Demons foreshadow. In their shade we are seen falling into broken arms, sinew stitched through hearts, still healing strength gives way. Our tongues meet shyly, this reunion a mistake, now locked, staying stilled while attempting apologetic phrasing. We sit in silence, backs crooked, blank walls and barren recounts crashing in.
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Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
Silence Crashing In
We sit in silence, backs crooked, the couches' cushions caving in. The weight of passing hours and minuettes alleviating thinking in a miscellaneous metronome ticking to bring time to a heaving chest. Stay calm, the pain of realignment will pass. Burdensome they may be, burgeoning wings will free you of... Pressure collapsing this cage, walls torn from studs, leaving only this skeleton surrounding us as we find delirium the backbone of convulsing lungs watched, earthquake mute laughter marring the faces with jagged faults. The cost of cracking, we must accept the scarring permanent. Breaks unplanned infirmities, alone, our time line disrupted itself and the heavens came, tumbling down. In silence, we lay, arms barring our escaping words. Eyes overstep boundaries, slipping through the gaps, a second moment of clarification fractures restraints whilst beguiling brainstorms sparked our interest. Our tongues meet, shyly. rubies placed upon your breath slipping against molded clay. In sapphires you and I hold nighttime reflections of passion contained in coal, waiting. Ivory runs my length, bending to ecstasy, breathing shallow, asynchronous, failing to find it's end in persistence. In night the danger dropped us, longing that dusty light beaming down on the show, Act 2 is the comedy. Off. Parallel parabola line diamond reflections, allow for recall with brushed fingertips, horse hair undertones realigning smiles, abstract the paintings of today, of yesterday, stealing away tomorrow in a previous reiteration of our variant indifference. The wings of the demon opened in symbolic solace, fell far across this burning emotional harbor, aflame in angels' suicides. We've fallen, taken knees to grace, whispering eulogies the waves applaud. Sands wash away to cupped stone palms, caressing the troubled banks lost in time. The blood washes away, momentary marks, brown, stained, it passes. Demons foreshadow. In their shade we are seen falling into broken arms, sinew stitched through hearts, still healing strength gives way. Our tongues meet shyly, this reunion a mistake, now locked, staying stilled while attempting apologetic phrasing. We sit in silence, backs crooked, blank walls and barren recounts crashing in.
Continue reading...
83
So what is recovery? Is it that tingle in your cheeks When the corners of your mouth meet Upwards. Is it that sparkle in your eyes Because they're no longer suffocated by your cries and you now have the potential to realise You are strong. Is it that glimpse of light, that for so long had been out of sight, that you cling onto tight, through fear It's only temporary. Is it rediscovering yourself, rebuilding your health and developing a new wealth Of coping mechanisms. Is it realigning the chemical imbalances in your brain, so you no longer feel insane, so there's not less pain But a mind that can handle it. Is it the glimpse in the mirror where you don't turn in horror but you greet and honour the person that you are. Is it the fear, that's consumed you year by year, that's brought the end so near, That starts to evaporate. Is it eating a meal, and not having to feel like You need to punish yourself. Is it hearing voices, but no longer allowing them to dictate your choices, Because they don't own you anymore. Is it putting down the bottle, because you're fed up of the throttle It had you in. Is it the feeling when you finally win Back your own heart and mind When finally you look inside And don't find Darkness but light, When the night no longer scares you And the days you can finally pull through Or is it simply a phase A gaze at what could never be For there is no clarity, No prospect to be free In chains and nooses And scars and bars. In bodies that fight to survive Trapped inside a mind that fights to take our lives. Some of us; shall never be undone We fight a war; That could Never be won.
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
What is recovery?
So what is recovery? Is it that tingle in your cheeks When the corners of your mouth meet Upwards. Is it that sparkle in your eyes Because they're no longer suffocated by your cries and you now have the potential to realise You are strong. Is it that glimpse of light, that for so long had been out of sight, that you cling onto tight, through fear It's only temporary. Is it rediscovering yourself, rebuilding your health and developing a new wealth Of coping mechanisms. Is it realigning the chemical imbalances in your brain, so you no longer feel insane, so there's not less pain But a mind that can handle it. Is it the glimpse in the mirror where you don't turn in horror but you greet and honour the person that you are. Is it the fear, that's consumed you year by year, that's brought the end so near, That starts to evaporate. Is it eating a meal, and not having to feel like You need to punish yourself. Is it hearing voices, but no longer allowing them to dictate your choices, Because they don't own you anymore. Is it putting down the bottle, because you're fed up of the throttle It had you in. Is it the feeling when you finally win Back your own heart and mind When finally you look inside And don't find Darkness but light, When the night no longer scares you And the days you can finally pull through Or is it simply a phase A gaze at what could never be For there is no clarity, No prospect to be free In chains and nooses And scars and bars. In bodies that fight to survive Trapped inside a mind that fights to take our lives. Some of us; shall never be undone We fight a war; That could Never be won.
Continue reading...
40
with each gust of gloom transparent emotions flow a whistling tender breeze lingering a lonely rhythm realigning clouds of smog hovering tattering trees leaving behind a silhouette absorbing shadows of sorrow all alone a locked heart searching for unknown hope humming the bitter dreams of a darkened and lost soul
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Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
The Silhouette
heart to heart connections, warm embraces in cold moments, reconciling our perspectives & realigning each other’s focus. ————————————————— tactful conversations, with intentional devotion, healing the deepest of wounds & building bridges over oceans.
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Mar 1, 2023
Mar 1, 2023 at 12:53 PM UTC
Peace is made of
His body grounds me... I was an alternating current with a frayed wire Sputtering... sparking... Misfiring... Alone and flickering in quiet desperation... Then he drew me in with his hands Held me tightly, pulling me close... Inviting me into his Center Insulating my circuits from the heat of their own charge, Reigniting those cold, dead connections... Redirecting, realigning Aeons of my dissipated energies. I become more, now, than some Reckless, erratic sunburst... Snapping and flaring on the mere surface of things... A loving so strong it makes me re-enter the belly of the beast, He and I, we become the pulse... Folding ourselves into the warm, primitive heart of God... Selflessness... Sacrifice... Joy, Radiance... Gratitude... I find all these things here. And everything false just quietly disappears.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
Big Sky Current
anxiety is wet sand seeping through a growing hole in a sieve of positivity, lasting like migrating birds arriving to find snowfall, a **** victim of hands bound by unmet expectations and spines realigning to throats and throats plugged with damp cement and every time I speak it dries a little bit more, the english language is written by children and broken branches carving into the back of my throat with no way out, I’ve never viewed my ribcage as prison bars until now, I’ve never been locked out by my own walls until now and this sickness is breeding vines all over any guard I try to knock down, it’s not contagious but it will wrap around your heart like a drunk tattoo.
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Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Drunk Tattoo
my heart locked in a lonely rhythm whistling through a thunder storm realigning all the stars above oh how I've felt so all alone his gentle tender breeze now blown for I humm bitter dreams no more
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Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
Lonely Rhythm
agreeing to this relationship                    was like realigning the northern lights                                      so i could have my own personal                    show for keepsake.  but really, i just want to keep you, with                   your stargazes and lit-up fire thoughts                                     that could make or break my                   sentences that let me follow my desire to believe in love or lead me                  to the realization that i have no idea                                     if i have the foundation to                  let your feather body and soft angles hold me up to the light.
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Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 6:23 PM UTC
naked truth.
Once he was mighty, once enlightened;  he has now been left alone to cower beneath the weight The Titanomachia of endurance, the man of all daring deeds, the astronomer of the Heaven's Many names fill the world of which he could be called, but only one fulfills what he truly is Said to have lead the mightiest of roles, into a raging battle upon the people within the stars Or so the storyline is told;  he was a stout hearted child, but would very soon be a broken man His wandering gaze flickers upon the stars in the flooding of the black universe's night sky The man's tears have been diluted with the caked dirt upon his strained and lined face Punished for the crimes in which he believed was righteous, his duty to his brother's service But he was wrong , and thoroughly punished for his heinous deeds against the Olympians For eternity, bade to hold Uranus away from the seeking sights of the creatures called humans Holding up, holding so tightly, and his fingers begun to slip out of their clenching grasp Unfurling endured fingers, he wonders if the right thing would be to let it all fall down into Hell To Hell with it all, to Hell with this world, To Hell with Humanity Letting his fingers slip from their gnarled grip upon the edges of existence, an inch at a time Minute by minute, he could feel the crumbling edges of both their worlds, realigning themselves His muscles; thus were forever deemed to scream in agony, to hold the weight for eternity And his punishment by Zeus severely claimed; never to let the bonds of either worlds break Piecing themselves back together, in their rightful places, the weight began to lighten But this man was a trickster at heart, his fingers slowly unhinged themselves from their steely grip If the sky should slip any further, the worlds both below and above should perish, The weight of existence grows heavily with each passing day, all was on his shoulders And he knew it
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Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
The Man Beneath the Sky
Once he was mighty, once enlightened;  he has now been left alone to cower beneath the weight The Titanomachia of endurance, the man of all daring deeds, the astronomer of the Heaven's Many names fill the world of which he could be called, but only one fulfills what he truly is Said to have lead the mightiest of roles, into a raging battle upon the people within the stars Or so the storyline is told;  he was a stout hearted child, but would very soon be a broken man His wandering gaze flickers upon the stars in the flooding of the black universe's night sky The man's tears have been diluted with the caked dirt upon his strained and lined face Punished for the crimes in which he believed was righteous, his duty to his brother's service But he was wrong , and thoroughly punished for his heinous deeds against the Olympians For eternity, bade to hold Uranus away from the seeking sights of the creatures called humans Holding up, holding so tightly, and his fingers begun to slip out of their clenching grasp Unfurling endured fingers, he wonders if the right thing would be to let it all fall down into Hell To Hell with it all, to Hell with this world, To Hell with Humanity Letting his fingers slip from their gnarled grip upon the edges of existence, an inch at a time Minute by minute, he could feel the crumbling edges of both their worlds, realigning themselves His muscles; thus were forever deemed to scream in agony, to hold the weight for eternity And his punishment by Zeus severely claimed; never to let the bonds of either worlds break Piecing themselves back together, in their rightful places, the weight began to lighten But this man was a trickster at heart, his fingers slowly unhinged themselves from their steely grip If the sky should slip any further, the worlds both below and above should perish, The weight of existence grows heavily with each passing day, all was on his shoulders And he knew it
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22
The rosy-cheeked captured between metal sculptures that are positioned properly, feng shui. Mistaking the pseudo-corridor as a route to the restroom, embarrassing herself in a new culture, growing uneasy, gathering steam on cheek. Snickering from elders loosen up her ****** lines, realigning the room. Guided back to her seating space, ease comes more naturally. Meals as important and the affection she shares with him, making her a cartographer, mapping love and territory unknown, especially this family space.
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Feng Shui
Its the stitches you left the twining and realigning of thread. A scissor sliced through, and now my heart is into two. The days I wasted, being your puppet, and you being the ventriloquist. I quit. Do not pull my strings, do not leave me be, unless you plan to re assemble me. For I am the broken puppet.
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Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
stitches
We're like two Pendulums Made from the same source      Once One Split through creation Drawn together      Recognizing           Reconnecting                Realigning Each swing moving us closer Writing our destiny in the sands Magnetically pulling us back to Unison           Syncing           Becoming One Again WHOLE Harmonious with the Universe And Purpose ©Tina Thompson 2017
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Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
Coupled Pendulums
Just like the way that parts of the 'Indian' Ocean May once Have fallen from 'my' umbrella spokes So we are never landlords For 'our' planet Only rivers Breaking and carving and realigning The narrow seams We touch
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
Rivers
I've gotten lost on Lovers Lane So many times I've played this game With each encounter I've sought change Realigning my last name I've found beauty here Even In Pain Each end... none the same I've realized it isn't the Him to blame I could've long gone back the way I came
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Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 3:23 AM UTC
Lovers Lane
Rough weathers crossed our currents, Ever so softly, We drifted together Harsh currents brought me under Your wave’s soft lips helped me to surface Curious waters dunked me below Again And Again With each Resurfacing became harder Tides only dropping me Deeper And Deeper Fluttering arms would rise Reaching for you But I loosen my grip In hopes you could already sense my SOS I learnt what I could not expect With enough strength I  learned to save myself I still suffocate As the water settles It grows Harder And harder To wait Yet, I wait And wait For the final wave of The final storm to pass Realigning our streams
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Crossing Currents
Locked out of my own mind: let me back in! The keys crack         off, break and jangle,         flat palm against a door: let me back in.         Checking all the doors, solid. And wait, is there noise coming from inside? Glass shattering? Wood splintering? Mystery cracks and creaks, not giving a hint: what is wrong!? Is everything okay?         Let me back in! Checking the windows, do they slide? Are they unlatched? No. Something is not right ...but what could it be? Both palms on the glass, eyelashes against the glass: curtains made of smoke. Heat. Smack with both hands, punch. Pick up a rock and throw it: it’s only glass. It will break and I will get back in, will see what is wrong and how to make it better. Beat out the flames and put everything back in order, back in place. Then all will be peaceful and I will relax with relief back into myself, all back to normal except for one shattered window. Hesitate, rock in hand to wonder: is it worth it? All the sounds have gone quiet: maybe it is over, maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe I’m about to break a window for no reason,         cause a ruckus for no reason,         throw a fit, make a scene, get up in arms,                                                                                for no reason. And maybe it’s better not to know, to wait outside until it passes,                   whatever “it” is. Just hold still and wait, like an animal caught out in the open, bracing against foul weather. Commit to it: living separately for a little while. Think only of the next second and how to get there. Grow a second skin, maybe. Watch the plants, watch as the moss unfurls like someone shaking out a blanket, the trees thicken. Again, the sounds,         the signs that all is not well. Someone is locked in there, someone unable or unwilling to communicate with the outside. A crack, something shifting. Thoughts and memories realigning, resorting to sorting through disorganized databases, disbanding old patterns and expectations. Inscrutable. My mind still locked, I have to guess what I am thinking.          what I am feeling.          what I am missing. Peer through the windows for a glimpse. Ask again, what is wrong? without receiving an answer. Just smoke leaking through the keyhole. Falling asleep on the doorstep in spite of the wind and noise. And when finally the storm is over. A creak. A door, open.
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 8:18 AM UTC
Locked Out
Locked out of my own mind: let me back in! The keys crack         off, break and jangle,         flat palm against a door: let me back in.         Checking all the doors, solid. And wait, is there noise coming from inside? Glass shattering? Wood splintering? Mystery cracks and creaks, not giving a hint: what is wrong!? Is everything okay?         Let me back in! Checking the windows, do they slide? Are they unlatched? No. Something is not right ...but what could it be? Both palms on the glass, eyelashes against the glass: curtains made of smoke. Heat. Smack with both hands, punch. Pick up a rock and throw it: it’s only glass. It will break and I will get back in, will see what is wrong and how to make it better. Beat out the flames and put everything back in order, back in place. Then all will be peaceful and I will relax with relief back into myself, all back to normal except for one shattered window. Hesitate, rock in hand to wonder: is it worth it? All the sounds have gone quiet: maybe it is over, maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe I’m about to break a window for no reason,         cause a ruckus for no reason,         throw a fit, make a scene, get up in arms,                                                                                for no reason. And maybe it’s better not to know, to wait outside until it passes,                   whatever “it” is. Just hold still and wait, like an animal caught out in the open, bracing against foul weather. Commit to it: living separately for a little while. Think only of the next second and how to get there. Grow a second skin, maybe. Watch the plants, watch as the moss unfurls like someone shaking out a blanket, the trees thicken. Again, the sounds,         the signs that all is not well. Someone is locked in there, someone unable or unwilling to communicate with the outside. A crack, something shifting. Thoughts and memories realigning, resorting to sorting through disorganized databases, disbanding old patterns and expectations. Inscrutable. My mind still locked, I have to guess what I am thinking.          what I am feeling.          what I am missing. Peer through the windows for a glimpse. Ask again, what is wrong? without receiving an answer. Just smoke leaking through the keyhole. Falling asleep on the doorstep in spite of the wind and noise. And when finally the storm is over. A creak. A door, open.
Continue reading...
66
Through the tunnel where safety lights diffract and our cigarettes filter the exhaust fumes where oil forms rainbows on concrete and lilacs grow through the cracks these incandescent heartbeats in passing cars, passing by and you lightly, like a dragonfly, realigning to catch the light in your half opened eye.
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Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
Mt Victoria
The stars are realigning, to show the outline of you're face, looking up I wonder, if we can still somehow relate... And all the lonely pieces, go try to find their parts, as I sit in darkness, pondering, "Oh if I only had a heart." Darling have you wondered, what its like to fall in love? I can only think of you, as I shift my gaze above. I ask the stars to shift again, "Please forgive me for this plea." As I set another dream to drift, so far away from reach.
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May 28, 2011
May 28, 2011 at 11:23 PM UTC
If only I didn't know you,
I love you to the Moon and back, and all my stars are realigning.
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Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC
Align
*My heart is cold and empty, Love has sapped me of love In all the right places, rooted in me. Time nourished me. And it would be lonely for you there. Scars bridged all fate I have, Altogether. My poems-- Buoying me to the river Of my mind, and out to finding you. My heart is cold and empty. So bring the world with you. Your dream, your soul, your pride. Bring the photo of your dearest smile, The pallette of your eyes, that is Also water, and sun, and sky. Your discoveries and doubts-- Dear, take them with you, For there would be many, there, That are not. All is shadow within, And burden, and gravity. You would know what its like To be the light or the feather, A star, or hope To one that is hopeful. You would feel what it is To be one, and being one, And being all With me. You would kiss, as though To love yourself. Embrace, as though To set one free. And journey, As though to settle on my heart, Realigning all that is whole With all imperfect pieces. Now, live, Love in faith. Go after dreams, And silly things, Fail. Learn. Act. Feel. Drink coffee. Sing Karaoke. Be crazy. Ignore poetry. Believing, That way, Somehow, You are loving me.* © 2014 J.S.P.
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Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 6:08 AM UTC
Can't Help Loving
What is frown but an upside down smile realigning to balance and re-emerge. What are tears but the cleansing before raibows can be seen. What is pain in heart but the doorway to feel music of heartbeats. What are dreams but the fuel for a wandering soul.
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Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 10:56 AM UTC
What Is