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Literature Text
i'm suffocating.
my chest wants to
explode
and my skin sweats
in time with cigarettes
and all this alcohol
i've fallen headfirst
into
all to protect myself
from claustrophobia
(my own head is
my worst enemy)
and my fear-
this world i've
found
is ten times worse
than i imagined
how can i be
alive
if i can't feel a thing
(but needles in my veins)
save me, save me
i'm far too gone to realize
this hole in my chest
is eating at
my soul
and desire can't fix everything
(swaying hips, pretty lips)
you might trap me
beneath the weight
of all your lies
but i was broken
long before
you broke my bones
my chest wants to
explode
and my skin sweats
in time with cigarettes
and all this alcohol
i've fallen headfirst
into
all to protect myself
from claustrophobia
(my own head is
my worst enemy)
and my fear-
this world i've
found
is ten times worse
than i imagined
how can i be
alive
if i can't feel a thing
(but needles in my veins)
save me, save me
i'm far too gone to realize
this hole in my chest
is eating at
my soul
and desire can't fix everything
(swaying hips, pretty lips)
you might trap me
beneath the weight
of all your lies
but i was broken
long before
you broke my bones
Literature
Directionality
I kiss the forehead of another dream,
cast away for different lives--
all my fields of green
seen through shutters
of different lenses, different eyes
that belong to me a half-step left
of the one I stand mirroring today.
These reveries--
revered to me;
refused of me,
refused by me.
Reflections of things
confused with me,
things yet to be seen.
When I die,
will I look back at trails I've cast,
branching worn, winding over grass,
a tree of life carved in the earth
by my unknowing feet?
Even better,
can I linger
over every second maybe,
reveal lives all hidden to me as I rise,
rise past the sum of every choice
and every right-hand
Literature
The Journey
Beneath my skin, my veins pulse with desire
To know why I am here.
As I journey to find the answers to life,
I sail through the monotonous seas
That stretch forever beyond the horizon.
As my ship sails towards the dry land,
Mountains tower before me,
Filling me with both awe and intimidation.
But the mountains are eroding as time passes by,
Into merely fragments of what they once were.
I move my eyes and watch the glaciers
Melt slowly into rivers.
But even though they disappear,
They melt to provide water for all life on this planet.
You could say rivers are created by glaciers for a purpose.
I ponder those mountains and glac
Literature
Who Put the Eggs There?
Mama Hen did not usually make much noise, but this morning she clucked so loud that she woke the entire house up. Papa Rooster was the first to come into the kitchen, where his wife stood wide-eyed in front of the fridge. It was still early in the morning, even for chickens, as Papa Rooster had only finished cock-a-doodle-dooing ten minutes ago.
He had no idea what could’ve caused such a ruckus, “What is it, my darling?”
Mama Hen clucked again, pointing her wings frantically at the opened fridge, “Who put the eggs there?”
Sure enough, Papa Rooster saw half a dozen of newly laid eggs lining the fridge’s s
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(Any use of this literature or any pictures, descriptions, or accounts of the writing as it appears here without the express written consent of the writer is strictly prohibited.)
©creativelycliche
(Any use of this literature or any pictures, descriptions, or accounts of the writing as it appears here without the express written consent of the writer is strictly prohibited.)
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