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Literature Text
As fire burns the forest down,
Trees reduced to nought,
Smoke is burning mortal eyes,
A losing battle fought.
All I see and all I think,
All I ever knew,
Burnt down before my eyes,
Sparing but a few.
Those who live and those whom die,
Nameless though they seem,
Are counted up by those who burn,
Who never once are seen.
Trees reduced to nought,
Smoke is burning mortal eyes,
A losing battle fought.
All I see and all I think,
All I ever knew,
Burnt down before my eyes,
Sparing but a few.
Those who live and those whom die,
Nameless though they seem,
Are counted up by those who burn,
Who never once are seen.
Literature
The Ghosts of Words
Words are for men
and women's minds will twist them.
They may speak, permission granted,
but the pen in all its might
is for men alone.
She knew better. All around
were women writing letters, books, lives.
Her brothers learned, and she listened.
One or two took pity, taught a, b, c
and she remembered.
And she read in cramped dusty rooms
where father never went.
Writing was next, with some practice.
Page after page of letters until her marks
looked like theirs. Until she truly wrote.
From then on it was all hers,
friends and family, towns and journeys,
words and worlds.
Love and denial and despair mixed in
carefully cramped
Literature
psychosomatic demons.
/inhale and exhale. listen for the rise and fall of your abdomen, because it might be the last thing you ever feel./
it begins when you feel the fire warm across the expanse of your back. in an attempt to extinguish it, you twist and turn, falling onto a heap on the floor and arching in ridiculous angles in order to scrabble at the seemingly raw skin. you give up when your joints begin to protest, and the fire happily proceeds to eat through the rest of you. oh, you're so beautiful, it says, words as slick as ice, and it cools down the burnt skin so well. the glint of the mirror catches your eye, and you take in the sinister air, the inky fl
Literature
Forgotten
I am the voice for the mute
And the eyes for the blind
I am the fighter for the weak
And the protest for the meek
I'm the ears for the deaf,
The hope where none is left
And the love where it's been long forgotten
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Aeroplane is late >.>
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