Bread

The woman's tears were beautiful; the rarest things tend to be. The less a fragile soul is seen, the more tender and sweet it seems.

His fury was incomparable; a level-headed rage. The words that slipped between his lips could expertly infuriate. 

Together a heartwrenching sight of delicate and liberating pain. To be free of chains and chained by freedom is an eternal strain of being. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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