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Literature Text
newspapers
I.
my mother and father found me in a pile of newspapers
hidden amongst language i would someday claim,
or perhaps, stuck in the throat of a hummingbird,
unsure if it was my job to help it fly.
II.
there is not much to say about the hummingbird:
only that its feathers are soft, its chest resembles
an idle car or a machine meant to tick much quicker
than a human heart.
III.
i am the ash of a burning bush, maybe even God’s face
staring out from it, although i wouldn’t go so far as to call
myself holy, because Lord knows i treat his name like any
other word and i never learned how to be someone’s child.
IV.
men rarely realize their hands until they cut them off.
daughters rarely realize their mistakes until their
parents stop reading the newspaper.
I.
my mother and father found me in a pile of newspapers
hidden amongst language i would someday claim,
or perhaps, stuck in the throat of a hummingbird,
unsure if it was my job to help it fly.
II.
there is not much to say about the hummingbird:
only that its feathers are soft, its chest resembles
an idle car or a machine meant to tick much quicker
than a human heart.
III.
i am the ash of a burning bush, maybe even God’s face
staring out from it, although i wouldn’t go so far as to call
myself holy, because Lord knows i treat his name like any
other word and i never learned how to be someone’s child.
IV.
men rarely realize their hands until they cut them off.
daughters rarely realize their mistakes until their
parents stop reading the newspaper.
Literature
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
Giving them kisses in the dark
to numb their headache from
drinking too much and yet
not enough to kill lust.
She was always adored by boys, who,
if given the chance, would rebuild
the world for her.
But she wanted to be the heroine
and refused to see
she needed saving, too.
Literature
Dear Writer
Dear Writer,
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I
Literature
Because I'm Blind
A young girl once asked a blind man, "Can you see?"
"Why, no, silly girl," the man replied. "I'm blind."
"I know that. Can you see?"
The man thought hard. He couldn't remember one moment when he had vision. "I'm sorry, my girl, but my eyes are broken. I don't understand what you mean."
"I guess you can't then..." The girl sighed, defeated.
She spent her whole life searching. She learned many languages and toured many countries during her mission, but none brought her to who she was looking for. One day, when she was old and retired, she sat on her front porch, feeling the soft breeze blow through her hair and listening to the soft c
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Comments2
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Oh! New part. It fits in lovingly.