Untitled Story

Untitled Story

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WpMetadataReadComplete Sat, Oct 8, 2016<5 mins
She was poetry. In all of her movements, the way light hit her skin, and even the way she cried silently. She was poetry in its finest form, but people don't understand that it's for all to look at, but only them to claim as their own.
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poems from within. ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚:⠀ *⋆.*:・゚ .: ⋆*・゚: .⋆ Note: my poem styles vary a lot, so some may rhyme and others no. Feel free to skip those you don't like. The poems aren't sequels to each other. There might be spoken word and such. Some poems are lowercase intended, others are not. The poems are me. It took a tremendous amount of courage to publish these, so thank you to those who have encouraged me, and please think about what you comment, if someone does happen to read this shat. And just remember: I love you. ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚:⠀ *⋆.*:・゚ .: ⋆*・゚: .⋆ started: july 30th, 2020 ended: april 5th, 2021

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