and
dance on my fingers.
I dream
of pale colors...pale and muted;
Hues
sparkling on dark waters.
Today
is a black eyeliner kind of day.
Today
is a heavy metal, stay-away from me
kind of
day.
Some
people fill your mind with poems;
Others
chase them away.
This
temporary discomfort, a blessing.
This
grain of sand, a pearl.
Pain
into beauty.
Poetry
doesn’t exist in a vacuum.
It is
born through sweat and tears.
It is
who we are.
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