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Monday, April 25, 2011

A Snippet From Something I've Been Writing

Though these moonbeams will not leave me
and the sunshine is god herself
I am angry with the state of this world
I am nestled in the safety of a grove of trees behind my home
the grass is perfect beneath my feet
the sun is pink behind my eyelids
and yet I am enraged
I don't know who I am angry at
I think it is the same person who decided a moth was less sacred than a butterfly
or the person who decided plump yellow flowers were weeds
Maybe it is the surgeons who anesthetize women under altars of steel; transforming chubby faced beauties into symbols of monetary value

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