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To Make it RightTo Make it Right
I was always quiet my whole life. Quiet and afraid, like I was being restrained by the trauma of a long forgotten memory that had somehow taught me to fear others and hate myself. And so my life was quiet. Quiet and boring. I’m already eighty years old, and nothing interesting has ever happened to me. I’ve never been married, or been with a man at all. It’s very depressing. I have no children or grandchildren, or even any friends.
The most exciting I ever witnessed was the day the pre-med student in the old boarding house threw himself out the window. I lived in my parents’ boarding house till I graduated high school. My life was as uneventful as ever until the day I walked outside and found the smashed up body of the pre-med student laying there. His name was Alonzo- he was of german decent, with blonde hair and strong facial features. I was a senior in high school and he was a junior in college. He was one of the people I was too afraid to tal
White SnowWhite Snow
A rope named contentment tied me down,
before I ever saw its chains.
No sweet longings filled my heart,
no desire for a change.
I had no companions like myself,
just carvings in the wood.
But I spoke with them to pass the time,
and knew they understood.
No single reason to be weary,
or suspect that one would lie.
But when deceit revived at my expense,
Fear, I felt, for the first time.
The crown sailed down a river of blood,
dark and slick as ebony.
Seven hands reached far down,
and broke off parts of me.
Hope took on the mystic form,
of a face inside my mind.
A fleeting cold red memory,
of the one I'd left behind.
When the hunter took my eyes,
the scene was so much clearer.
Not the one she thought I was,
lonely silhouettes on the mirror.
A wall of glass divided us,
thicker than a moat.
Poison choked at my parched heart,
and stopped my beating throat.
My final page, I was sure,
would be a tragedy.
A death bereft of calm rebirth,
an end to self and country.
Never expecting tha
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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