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4 posters
I am Revolution :: Words :: Journals :: Meaghan
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The birds soar with fragile grace in the sky. One falls behind. Injured, but still so beautiful. The broken wing bends inward, but is hardly noticeable due to it's beauty. The crow's black wings are tinted with a beautiful purple and navy blue hue that reflects the sun. The broken birds always have the prettiest plumage. It takes it's time, soaring through the air slower, but somehow, more gracefully than the other birds. It gets to the telephone wire just like all the others, but does not blend in. The feathers are what stand out, not the broken wing.
Tired eyes follow the wire to a small suburban house where the telephone rings faintly. Another bird has lost it's wings.
I know it's sad that I never gave a damn about the weather and it never gave a damn about me.
Tired eyes follow the wire to a small suburban house where the telephone rings faintly. Another bird has lost it's wings.
I know it's sad that I never gave a damn about the weather and it never gave a damn about me.
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I tell this to Mikey too, so you'd best believe it Meg- LYING IS NOT ENCOURAGED OR PERMITTED.
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They're right, you know. That is absolutely beautiful; all of your writing is. I could never write like that, and even if I could, as ludicrous and impossible as that would be, it would take me forever for it to come out as perfect and graceful as you write. And that's just the truth.
If that's not your actual writing, I'm afraid to see your actual writing. It must be mindblowing. And if you're pretty bad compared to most others, who the hell is most others and where the hell have I been?
If that's not your actual writing, I'm afraid to see your actual writing. It must be mindblowing. And if you're pretty bad compared to most others, who the hell is most others and where the hell have I been?
I am Revolution :: Words :: Journals :: Meaghan
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