The word 'prodigy' never found its way near my name. Yet, all I hear from peers who used to be proud, now concerned, is ' you know too much.' And I ask, and I cry.
Did I fly too close to the sun again, Father? Am I falling?
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Pardon me
My heart aches tonight
With recklessness
Your, mine, combined
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The days I meet you, I am almost convinced, I can wear yellow.
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I am tired of seeing you in my dreams. I don't want to walk through this memory with the ghost of you again. To see you smile, to see us back underneath the summer sun, is agony. To recall my name, from broken pitches of your last remembered voice, is agony. With that said, again I will wait for you in my dreams tonight.
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I am trapped with myself. With no one else to be my hell, I am.
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I forget most in madness, sickness of my heart washes over these delicate memories I hold till they aren't. But something tells me, I will remember you, not as a warning, never that, more like warmth. I will know you as my gentle sun, less harsh than the real one.
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I want to be like the tides, gentle and roaring. I would try to kiss the moon in one blink and come crashing down in another. But I am not that free. I am this little plant that seeps and stays. My smile depends upon the skies. Even if I hate to admit it, the winter solstice makes me long for warm lights.
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One day
Someone curious enough
Will ask me about my favourite word.
And that will be my cue
To flash a truly enigmatic smile
And somehow mumble ' might.'
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Oh! She is steep,
The kind that makes you yearn
And fearful to leap;
Because one second
She'll show worlds of looming glory,
And in another you're consumed and spent.
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I still drown in the waters I claimed to have mastered
How much can I write about a pain that refuses to lessen? Sometimes I think it will be easier to drink the ocean than to sink and sink further.
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