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The yells echoing from the very thin walls of our house. The scream of a frightened child as she watched her father kick what seems like the only thing she had left from her mom. The mom who she hasn’t seen in months.
When they ask you what you are thankful for You start to think about what you adore It can be a movie, a theater or a bookstore Even your own room, that works too.
i'm thankful for you we were perfect, us two you painted me gold more than you painted me blue   i think you're my angel boy, every single angle  of you is so perfect, i don't want to disturb it
To the artists who saved me Inspired me But yet still are saving me every day Thank you Rupi Kaur Liberation drove me to the mic
I will forever say senior year has been my most stressful year All day I am filled with worry and fear The thought that if I do not do things well right now,  It may affect me in the future brings tears to my eyes
A juvenile at the age of fourteen,  frail and apprehensive of her surroundings lays concealed,  restless beneath a short portion of vessel fabric.  She lays soundless. 
Enough. It's a word that describes something we can never have. It doesn't matter what it is. It could be friends, clothes, beauty, happiness, money and more.
The sweet air that we breathe Sunshine that our skin welcomes The crops that sprout from the ground, waiting to be picked The soft sand that flattens beneath our feet  And the wind that plays with your hair
Children, Quiet nights, chubby toes, imaginary friends in class. Water balloons, ice cream trucks, green blades of grass. Children, Mistakes made, processing death, moving away with dad.
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