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Literature Text
Sometimes I endevor
to become a muted entity,
one with no identity,
not but a story to tell
through stiffled sighs,
and moans floating,
gliding on the breeze.
I would speak,
through the soil cover
that colours my hands.
Tell the world
all the myths of peoples,
which I consecrate, sacred,
through acts of good will.
to become a muted entity,
one with no identity,
not but a story to tell
through stiffled sighs,
and moans floating,
gliding on the breeze.
I would speak,
through the soil cover
that colours my hands.
Tell the world
all the myths of peoples,
which I consecrate, sacred,
through acts of good will.
A very sponatneous piece of poetry. Felt the urge to write it very suddenly so I opened notepad.
Comments4
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spontinaity is always fun. ...I hope I spelled that right.