in the garden

in the garden

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Sep 1, 2018
poetry describing the crooked posture of a flower, the dust at the corner of an attic, the singe of nostalgia at the end of summer, the wring of reciprocated love, or just about anything, really.
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For every person out there that was quiet, not because they chose to be so, but because they were choking in the smoke. Because their opinions were apparently not worth anything. Because they didn't know just how to say what they felt. For every person that is consumed by their own thoughts, the derision from the outside world only making it worse. For every soul that was drowning in remorse and anguish on restless nights. For every soul that says I love you in the dark and in the mirror because no one else does. For the floors we would pace while anxiety sunk its teeth into us. For the mirrors that we would break while shame echoed its laugh in our caged walls. For the hearts that would ache while loneliness was the only company. For every moment of pain and solitude in this world that feels too cruel for such young and frail minds.

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