z

Young Writers Society


(i was a lonely estate)



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Wed May 01, 2024 12:55 am
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mantra says...



the closest thing to heaven

my thoughts bleed out
like muffled sounds i didn't mean.
my flopping, wailing regurgitation crawls
out of me & into the soil where
i see you standing.

you tell me how much you need me.
it is your sole, sacred mantra.

like dew on blades of grass,
i wait for gravity to take my hand
& lead me to the ground;
a lasting reminder of the universality of love,
or humans, or the god you grew up with.
he/him
  








When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings.
— Dean Jackson