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we are all figs here


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  • @alliyah and @nicole136 inspired this poem in a pad haha

    #gempoeting



    september isn't
    waking up in a cold sweat wondering
    if you even fell asleep
    days repeating into themselves
    hearing the patter of little feet
    little feet that aren't there
    in actuality
    it isn't feeling cold
    and the cold in turn feeling you
    falling into cycles
    that feel much more like spirals
    being tempted to
    not be tempted to do anything
    eating food without
    joy and wondering where
    joy has went
    sparkling grass being
    crushed because it
    makes a sound

    but september could be
    warm breaths melting frost
    being found when you feel lost
    music playing in your mind
    someone helping you feel fine
    holding hands to bear against time
    sleeping over six hours a night
    it could be new begginings at
    other begginings ends
    finding new people
    after you thought
    you lost your friends
    realizing that the calender
    was tilted the whole time
    and tilting it back
    to watch the days
    slide



“Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never could.”
— Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell