s o u l

119 24 23
                                    

I rest my hand on your heart,

                                           feeling the ache of a wayward soul

                                          trapped in blood and bone,

a girl made into flesh and gold,

       yet you still hold your pen

              like a torch

                        against the ways of old,

                                     knowing you can wake 

               the wilting world

                                                                     with just the beginnings

 of a poem, verse, word—

                                                       after all,

                                                                               "the pen is mightier than the sword"




this is just a poem I thought of at school when I was supposed to be paying attention in class. I was trying to write it down but then a teacher looked over my shoulder and saw I was writing words instead of numbers haha. anyway, I just want to say I've been waiting all day to write this (IN THE PRIVACY OF MY OWN ROOM)!!


love,

mari

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