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I grieve for the girl with ambition
The one with the world at her feet, everything at her grasp
I grieve for the love she gave away like picked flowers, freely and without caution
I mourn for her conviction, lost with passing of time and broken promises.
I envy the women that didn't get lost, the ones that stuck to their guns and fought for their truth
I once thought my spirit was vast, but somehow fear pulled at my ancles so I locked that light away in a jar
It lives atop the pantry, next to the sugar and spice
Always dreaming of something nice.
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“And all I loved, I loved alone.”
— Edgar Allan Poe
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I have a mind like ocean waves. Shifting always, too violent or too gentle, burning like salt water. Come too close and I worry that I will swallow you.
— Zoë Lianne, Black and White
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