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Literature Text
One day I will be a real girl
and I will lie whenever I please
and no one, not ever,
will be able to tell.
One day, someday, I will be alive
and I will love whoever I want;
my heart will beat beneath your fingertips.
And only I will ever know
that I was once made of stone.
and I will lie whenever I please
and no one, not ever,
will be able to tell.
One day, someday, I will be alive
and I will love whoever I want;
my heart will beat beneath your fingertips.
And only I will ever know
that I was once made of stone.
Literature
A letter you'll never read
To my love
The sound of bullets is your lullaby, as you lie awake thinking of everything but me. You're blood thirsty, trigger happy; you love the rotation of a helicopter blade, and the way the locals avert their eyes when you walk by. The sun blazing down on your back and a dead body at your feet is all you need to feel alive, because home is where the heart is, and you have neither.
Your baby is a killer, a cold, steel weapon of devastation clutched against your chest, and you adore it, as though you didn't have a child to love back home, waiting. She cries all day and all night you know, sometimes inwardly sometimes outwardly but none o
Literature
just another love story
staring at your eyes
makes everything somehow right again
like my world has flipped around and i can finally
b r e a t h e
you make me someone i never thought i could be
someone i should be
but got lost somewhere along the way
i met you in a dark alleyway
both of us not wanting
both of us not wanting to be bothered
yet we connected as the stars lit up
but the stars are powered by
electricity bulbs
so take my hand one last time
and
j
u
Literature
Window
It rained today,
A soft, sweet melody to end all others,
His grimface pressed against the window pane,
His eyes following yearningly
The figure as she hopped among the puddles.
He grasps at the figure,
But he is blocked, limited by his world,
The dark, dank confines of a room
That seeks to hold on to him,
To drag him down.
It bloomed today,
A rarity as it was,
A bright dew-dotted messenger,
That grew into his room through a crack,
And always seemed to stare outside with him,
Its constant companionship a quiet,
Yet solid reminder of a silent ally,
That sought nothing more
Than to smile inwardly at him,
To be a light in the
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