My muse perches on the edge of my window, her Tiffany-blue feathers more beautiful than any diamond could be. I'm afraid she'll fly away, but instead she sits and sings her little-lark songs.
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Poetry❝ my heart runs wild with words that shouldn't escape my lips ❞ [[my process of healing//started feb. 13th, 2016]]
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My muse perches on the edge of my window, her Tiffany-blue feathers more beautiful than any diamond could be. I'm afraid she'll fly away, but instead she sits and sings her little-lark songs.