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Literature Text
The sparkling image
And the glimmering hope
That I see in your eyes
Has dimmed
I can't help but wonder
Where has it gone?
Why you no longer
Seem bright
Where has the real
You disappeared to
And why are you acting
Afraid?
You know who I am
And you've lived in my home
And yet you still act
Afraid
I can promise you this
And simply this
That I will not harm you
Today
You're safe in my arms
You can live again
If you just close
Your eyes
And the glimmering hope
That I see in your eyes
Has dimmed
I can't help but wonder
Where has it gone?
Why you no longer
Seem bright
Where has the real
You disappeared to
And why are you acting
Afraid?
You know who I am
And you've lived in my home
And yet you still act
Afraid
I can promise you this
And simply this
That I will not harm you
Today
You're safe in my arms
You can live again
If you just close
Your eyes
Literature
Winter Child
& though my skin is steel,
I am but a girl without a wolf,
without a home,
without a name.
& though autumn winds still blow,
I only feel the cold,
for winter has settled
into the hollow
between my shoulder blades.
Literature
Depression Awareness
Because apparently this week has been Depression Awareness week, I thought I would share something.
Everyone who knows me knows that I love to share anecdotal stories about life. Not just my life, but stories I in which I may have played a small role or even only witnessed. They can be funny or serious, casual observations or emotionally charged. There are literally millions of stories which make up all of our lives. I just happen to enjoy sharing some of the ones that make up mine.
A number of years ago, I sliced my wrist open on a piece of broken Pyrex at work. Yes, it was an accident. I spent over six hours at the hospital, had plas
Literature
Dreamed a Little Dream
Dreamed a Little Dream
I am the river, still and tranquil, the moon creating diamonds of my surface.
I drift, and sift, brushing ever so softly against the sandy shore.
The soil so bibulous, porous, drinks me in with a purpose, of sustaining the life that it grows.
I seep around the rocks and the past, to be touched by something more.
The root of a tree finds what it needs, and participates in my potation.
I do not feel used, its much more mutualistic.
I nourish, it grows, then we both are witness to my transformation.
A vein in a leaf, I feel a cool breeze, and we dance apart, but together.
The sun shines through me and I feel it again, a ch
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