short reads
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An Ode to The Dandelion

The dandelion reaching for the sun, Doesn’t know it’s millions of miles away. I like to think it thinks it will touch it someday. Continue reading
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The Word Just
I just hate the word “just” That I just so stubbornly say To just belittle my words Just before I send them away Continue reading
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Burlap Cubicles

I feel like a potato in a potato sack. Covered in coarse, rough, Burlap. Continue reading
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Mayday Mayday Mayday

Modern-day knight in iridescent Kevlar, riding on a red horse, veiled and obscured. If the fires don’t kill him, then the cancer will. Continue reading