Her
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kupojI might write somethings
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
A poem I thought of, a while back.

Her

by kupoj

She wanted soft nights with the rain,

listening to her thoughts as her death black hair covered her lips red vein. Arms of shelter, heart of strain were gifts she sought till the end of her days.

Yet, gifts sought were not gifts found

in the midst of those around her. Fragile and doubtful she grew, till time slowly surround her.

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kupojI might write somethings
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kupojI might write somethings
a year ago
I wouldnt mind you know.

kupojI might write somethings
a year ago
What were her?...



bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
a year agoReply
This poem is like the beginning of a psycho-thriller. It is that intense. I may have been short, but it packed a puch in its message.