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Once upon a time, a baby girl was born. Her curls were free and her eyes could smile. A voice, so sweet, her being did adorn, but without her legs, her life was full of trials.
Someone once gave me a small box full Of sorrow, of pain, of truth. It had a certain spiral pull, Which swallowed my smile and drained my youth.  
The sight of letters on a page, makes me cringe and want to escape. Even though we are often told,  that writing comes from the soul.  
English 101 and Me   By Sarah DeWeese   A poem you ask, about me? For English 101 you see. Well --- I am quiet, I am shy, kind, but sure.
Impatiently sulking through dismal days A wretched state of dour contemplationSeeing only drab shades of darkest graysCaged in cyclical self-lamentation Imprisoned in humankind’s austere wallsConsoled by a primitive ambition Pacing madly about thr
Forever thee flame could not be kindled Our love was unlike other loves, easy Wild tongues spread, unable to be swindled. And happily, it was a fantasy   Today, sadly, like every fantasy
The maiden walking down the crowded road, Unknown, unlucky vessel for defeat, Not seeing Cupid’s humble, red abode, Is struck within, filling void hearts in heat.
is not a deperesing one like every body thinks i think it is but a colorful one Life is amazing no bounderies; i live by none no body to stop you from living or dying
A light of chance with words you write it shows Subtle hidden a closed gate yet now swing Waiting without a mere thought to impose Inked words never spoken somehow still sing
My love is a like a burning red rose with thorns that prick small fingers, illuminating my sunburnt pink nose. You keep me safe from life’s terrors. The shelter of your arms hides me from all
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