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Literature Text
this was yesterday when i was walking along the street
holding hands with you
and we saw a stranger in a dark hat who said he was misssing his
purple umbrella
and we smiled and told him that he must be mistaken
because they were all sold out at the carnival
but he could have my heart instead because you didn't want it anymore.
holding hands with you
and we saw a stranger in a dark hat who said he was misssing his
purple umbrella
and we smiled and told him that he must be mistaken
because they were all sold out at the carnival
but he could have my heart instead because you didn't want it anymore.
Literature
I hope it's worth it when I'm gone.
I can't even pretend things are simple anymore.
It's raining again, and with every crash of thunder, I miss you more than I can bear. I know it's not worth saying, because really nothing much is anymore, but it doesn't make it any less true.
It's eleven ten on a Friday night, and I'm sitting in the middle of the grass, watching the downpour spill off the roof. My t-shirt is clinging to my ribcage, and my hair is sticking to my face. I can feel the water running down the ridges of my spine, the backs of my hands, clumping in my eyelashes, but still, I don't move. Sometimes, when I can't stand what the world is doing anymore, I allow myself a
Literature
maybe i'll die for the truth
when i was seven, i forgot how to be a kid, and i grew up, and once you grow up, you rarely grow down. when i was fourteen, you told me i made you sad to talk to, and that i should cheer up and look around at all the beautiful things in the world, but you can't see the beauty in things that sicken you. you can't pretend that the world is alright when people are dying and starving and crying and wars are being fought and the right people are losing and the wrong ones are winning-you can't see beauty in these types of things.
when i was seventeen, you told me i was beautiful, but the wrong kind. and i thought, how can you be the wrong kind of
Literature
the beautiful edge of ugly -co
"you know, we are made of ugly things."
"yes, but have you not heard? ugly is the new beautiful. like the way you always seem to pry at my thoughts and know what i'm thinking; the way you make me talk when i really don't feel like parting my lips and lying to you. it's just like the cyanide and razor blades i keep in my medicine cabinet, waiting for the day when i master the definition of defeat."
"then we are the most beautiful thing in the world, because we are spending our days chewing on gunpowder and wilted roses. i spent ten minutes this morning carving your name on the inside of my thigh; somehow, replicating that pain makes me think
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We whispered orange and forgot how to speak in kettles.
Under winter moons forever you or and I did miss maybe sorry kettle love miss fingers terrible fingers are
I now have an eprologue, written by my far away artist friend Nick!
[link]
We whispered orange and forgot how to speak in kettles.
Under winter moons forever you or and I did miss maybe sorry kettle love miss fingers terrible fingers are
I now have an eprologue, written by my far away artist friend Nick!
[link]
Comments14
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oh c'mon really?! I just checked that shit, you seriously
freakin Rick Roll'd my piece? Daaaammmnn... idk whether to larff or
feel insalted?? Besides this is a waaaay better 80's song than that [link] ..
freakin Rick Roll'd my piece? Daaaammmnn... idk whether to larff or
feel insalted?? Besides this is a waaaay better 80's song than that [link] ..