Indigo sky: bright.
As stars burn, galaxies spin.
Somewhere, life thrums on.
A writer, I think.
How does it work?
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More stories from Jesse Warewaa and writers in Poets and other communities.
This terrible and wonderful feeling, to be so small and you, vast.
By Jesse Warewaa3 years ago in Poets
I may not be making a lot of sense these days...as you can clearly See in my depiction of a maniacal grin...confusion is exuding from the crazed state of my inner core and sanctum.
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Five stars perfectly Aligned universally Yet I just wonder
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It was a miserable day. It had been a miserable for a month and Peggy, the old doddery woman, waited at the bus stop in the pouring rain.
By Elizabeth Butlerabout 14 hours ago in Fiction
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