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roastingwinter mealsjust beforethe snow hits,the dry chilling airencircles us twolittle penguinsin our black overcoatsas we smellsweet sugars formupon the darkening skin
Hot cocoa burned Lesson learned Rotten milk Blanket of silk Flightless birds Spoken words Chilly night Candle light Chocolate tainted A prank elated Laughter, smiles
What I have lived for hitherto is not of conformity, But for my own thoughts and beliefs without straying afar from the norm.  As a small penguin of a large world,
A Penguin can’t fly. The poor flightless bird, confined to the land and sea, with wings weighing it down: gravity. Me. The girl who dreams to be a penguin, yet fly,
I like to waddle. I live in Antarctica. I am a penguin.
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