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TheSilence

  • Internal Battles

    Rose of red,You bleed.Pushed down to your,Knees.A battle,Against wind.Against the forces,That pull.Afraid to be picked,Misplaced from the crowd.Afraid to be taken,From the greenery shroud.Soft petals

    • Poetry
    • Narrative
    2 min read


I want to see people turn and writhe; make them feel things they cannot see and sometimes do not know.
— Anna Held