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Couldn't sleep, my eyes restless as my mind whirs in frustration. Why? Why? You left me and have let me go, but I still can't grasp reality.
Simply Twenty-Six Letters
Do not use your words as knives.There are too many people with open wounds,Self inflicted lacerations,Bleeding freely.
Why do I write?
I can talk a lot, Now. But it was poetry that taught me how. Before my sentences were jumbled up phrases only I could understand, With with minimal explaining.
Poetry and Me By Colleen Preston Poetry and me Just simply came to be. Like wind beneath my wings,