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Literature Text
There is an internal space
Where every moment is a story beginning -
A discovery in an attic,
A looming cavern mouth,
A journey across the sea.
A thousand scrapbook moments
With no need for purpose or end
Are strung together, like lights,
Forming a bridge through the dark
And pushing back the borders of what isn't.
Where every moment is a story beginning -
A discovery in an attic,
A looming cavern mouth,
A journey across the sea.
A thousand scrapbook moments
With no need for purpose or end
Are strung together, like lights,
Forming a bridge through the dark
And pushing back the borders of what isn't.
Literature
Four years.
I was nine when they left me, when my best friend became my father, when the cancer got bad and I had to learn how to cook and clean and tuck myself into bed at night.
I was nine when my mother quit her job, and began spending every hour she had in the hospital, when my father began breaking promises and changing rules and getting lost on the highway because the hospital was the only place he knew.
I was nine when I understood what it meant to grow up too quickly, when they pulled me out of my classroom to tell me she was dying, when I realized that losing my sister would end more lives than one.
I was thirteen when they decided they could
Literature
Finally Yours
We've spent so much time...
so far apart,
longing for each other's touch,
waiting for any chance to talk,
worrying if the other was true,
wondering if our feelings were real.
So many lonely days and nights,
only able to speak through wires.
The sound of your voice,
makes my heart take wing,
and alleviates the darkness,
that which holds me in fear
each moment we're apart...
So many fears,
would you still want me?
when will we be together?
But all that fades away,
at this, the magic moment
we've waited for, so long.
No longer separated by thousands of miles.
Able to touch, to see, to hear
for ourselves at long last
Literature
Your Fantasy World
Your pretty little lies,
everything sugar-coated,
presented as a certainty.
Promises you never
intended to keep,
especially to me.
So many things you
claim we'll do,
we never will.
I know that you
are nothing...
nothing but a lie.
You cannot even
tell yourself the truth,
not anymore.
So many gifts you
claim you hold for me.
They don't exist,
none of it's real.
And you just keep
dragging me into
your little fantasy world.
Trying to make me believe
all your lies...
No more.
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I Googled 'fantasy life' a little while ago. Over half the search results were about sex. What's wrong with the adult population?
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