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Poetry Schmoetry.

Them.

While I sit up here,

I watch them

Through the rain-covered window pane.

They embrace, they're blurry.

They kiss, and they walk away without looking

back one more time.

My tears become the rain on my windows and I

search again in the skyline for anything to

make me feel something.

-anon



What Am I?

You can hear me,

but you can't see me.

I take up space,

but apparently not enough.

Walk into me,

and you just might notice.

Don't mind me

I'd better let you be.

-anon



this is the recipe to life

said my mother

as she help me in her arms as i wept

think of those flowers you plant

in the garden each year

they will teach you

that people too

must wilt

fall

root

rise

in order to bloom

-rupi kaur




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