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Heather

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

20 poems·Since April 2013
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the space where the air flows

May 5, 2013
whisp howl woosh i'm alive the sensory tips of my medium-sized fingers stinging the particles smaller than we could ever fathom punching my fingers as they whip by i'm free out in the open air my arm flutters i am blessed with the ability to feel the tingling, the stinging, the pain nothing matters anymore the air takes control of my limbs
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