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she wears ambition embellished on her sleeve
which, with tremendous willpower; she once weaved
the laurels of her long hauls that her under-eyes behold
tell the tales as she sweats her brows
you see the glimmer of the stars she upholds,
consigning it to oblivion, that you must primarily burn in order to glow
YOU ARE READING
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poetry[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed
