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Anymore

Help me, I write poems.

By Amanda FishPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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Nowadays

I walk on floors that are my own.

I've been to the past

and I've seen my future

and I've slept in a shallow grave.

I've seen the women who walk crooked

they're screaming at nothing with mouths with no teeth

and paying for nothing with purses with no money

and they're dreaming in red but living in blue

and black.

I've seen the bird with one leg who flies

pretty normal

but once he lands I can tell there's something wrong.

I've broken plates and glasses and vases

and fixed them with molten gold

and made them more beautiful still.

I've met kings.

I've held princes.

I've thought of queens

and fought with princesses.

There are holes in my shoes

and my hair is too long

my mouth is so dry

and my eyes are so tired.

I've danced with the gypsies

and I rode on a bear.

I stole a carriage, a slipper, and a chandelier.

I made wood out of water and air out of fire.

But I never write anymore.

art
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About the Creator

Amanda Fish

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