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There once was a British Indian girl, Who lived in British world. Eating her fish and chips, But still loving her Indian dips One day she was told, That she would have to leave her usual mold.
Last day. Big smiles, warm hugs Laughing, refusing to cry. The outgoing one The funny one The athletic one The identity that doesn’t need an introduction. No one told me
Another new place; Another new road. Another new school; Another new home. Each move just the last. Pack up your clothes; Pack up your shoes. Pack up your books;
Raising sons full of ire, Restraint is no longer their friend. With news, IT builds a fire. In only destruction it will end. You did this, you did that, Three hundred years of accusation.
She stands on the rugged sea shell beach, waiting for something to happen. Her life has not been really exciting, and she hasn't particularly been described as an ambitious person.
All eyes on you Its time to tell the truth We finally got the spotlight camera action We must take action So we must act Not on a stage with the man pulling the strings This is not oz
I. in Appleton, Wisconsin, there is a boy named Cael who dreams of Copenhagen and draws demonic flamingo. his spine is curled the wrong way from countless years of binding.
a man with a scruffy beard and ice-blue eyes once told me: when we love, we get angry when we are not loved the same way. i wonder if he saw the hint of indignation,
It fills the air, Without a care. It sings a song, All day long. It dances around, It pulses the ground. It envelops ears, It's everything we hear. It breathes, It weaves.
Waking up to a cacophony of noise, I arose to a familiar place. A place so much like home but still far from it. It was small, too small for four Maybe five for a time.
My feelings still strong, but another's long gone. Forget I must of a time once known, happy I was, but I must move on. On a road of pain and remorse I go, paths unclear but I still move on.
When the shadows move the earth is quiet.