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Porcelain flesh
Nature's canvas -
Good God, it's cold. Ugh, I can hardly stand it. It's not even that bad, I just don't like numb fingers. And yet...here I am, writing on. A soldier of...ink. What cause is this for anyways? Did I choose the right side by creaby shaynashakesit 3 lines, 1 comment, on Mar 21 9:26 PM. In Ink, Writing, Poetry, Anti-violence, Pen, Cold
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I see faces everywhere, Staring,by Lightning Strikes 13 lines, on Mar 14 3:01 PM 2008. In Angst, Sad, Peer Pressure, 13!=91, Quickie, Ink
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Looking around / darkness surrounds / but a breath of fresh air / as / my humble servant returns to me. / Once the sunshine kissed my face / caressing it oh so tenderly / but I retreated / the sun set
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Heat of the noon-day sun
beats upon my bare back -
Thirsty
not for a drink -
The river runs
the river flows -
Her white tank top reveals scarred arms, her blue shorts show symbols, words, and numbers. Scarred up and down, all over...by SarahEatsAirplane 53 lines, 2 comments, on Mar 16 12:41 AM 2007. In dark, ink, cutting, scars, my own style, thoughts, what if?
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Chained to the inkwell
never to be free -
These inked pages, they speak to me
whispered promises not easily broken -
I'm a nutcase; you don't have to read this...
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I am Queen of Night;
My stylus is the scepter I rule with.
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