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 Sep 2020 Broken Pieces
Ciel Noir
I feel like
the sky
one moment before
the lightning strikes

knowing it will go through me

that I will be
electrified

only not knowing
what it will hit
or from which side
 Sep 2020 Broken Pieces
Megan H
Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?
I'm sorry I haven't written a while! Love you all
She's in a
self imposed cage.
I can see it in
her eyes;
a demon's hell-fire.
She loathes humanity,
especially men.
Anyone can blame
past circumstances for
how they are currently,
but ultimately,
love unlocks the
door to the
prison of hate.
Hate and love are both choices.
They say that love is
Deep
Kind
Long
and Wide
But for me love is
Dead
Dark
Elusive
and Painful
And when my tear stained face finds a gentle hand to wipe away my sorrows
I fall in love
Or perhaps I fall in line
I’m not sure there’s a difference anymore
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