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Writerchick

  • Bells

    Their bells chime silently in the whispering wind. And as you lay there amongst the sun and the yellowed grass, you listen to them. It's soft and quiet here, and ...

    2 min read
  • The Forgotten Girl

    The turbulent days of my youth are not something I take great pleasure in remembering, but memories have a tendency of weaving themselves into your conscious state, without any real ...

    15 min read


Poetry lies its way to the truth.
— John Ciardi