I pick up the broken shards of glass
I want to make a poem with them
I pick up the broken twigs of trees
I want to make a poem with them
Do I hear the silence of negative sounds?
-Like clouds shot out of the sky?
I want to pick up the pieces of other people’s lives
And make poems out of them
And then I come to love
– who runs away
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Brilliant 🖤
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Great writing, love the imagery 😀
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