we talk about stories and poems like there's always a deeper meaning into it. like the descriptions of the sky and the color of his eyes symbolize something deeper but what if they are just rambled words writers scribble on paper in the middle of the night? heaven knows nothing makes sense when i write and meaning only exists when we deem it worthy.
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FLAWED MOTION (a writing collection)
Poetry"i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." © xelena clarisse, 2015 highest: #104 in poetry
