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Young Writers Society


164



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Gender: Female
Points: 948
Reviews: 6
Tue Jan 17, 2012 2:14 am
thisismichelled says...



Today my father died.
Gone, he was here yesterday.
Left me, my family.
Not a note or goodbye.

I walked down the street
Counted each car on every one of the trains that passed.
One hundred sixty four
I didn't spend even that many days with you.

My father died today, but only in my eyes.
He left for the other woman last night,
And breathes with her this morning.
  





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Gender: None specified
Points: 994
Reviews: 4
Tue Jan 17, 2012 4:17 am
Still says...



This feels so honest.
  








Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.
— Brené Brown