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Literature Text
Misty. That is how the world seems.
Patchy. Like a fanfair of our dreams.
Midnight. A haunting clarity of air.
Swiftly. So we are not caught by care.
Bright lights make sore eyes,
Blurred vision makes pained cries,
tears rise in my throat, I know,
and here a fruitless giant will grow,
Fearful. But unsure of the reason.
Broken. As they've commited the treason.
Lightly. So we are not caught by scare.
Frozen. because our emotions don't dare.
Patchy. Like a fanfair of our dreams.
Midnight. A haunting clarity of air.
Swiftly. So we are not caught by care.
Bright lights make sore eyes,
Blurred vision makes pained cries,
tears rise in my throat, I know,
and here a fruitless giant will grow,
Fearful. But unsure of the reason.
Broken. As they've commited the treason.
Lightly. So we are not caught by scare.
Frozen. because our emotions don't dare.
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first poem Im pleased with for ages, maybe put music to it
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Comments6
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this is well written. it has some good imagery