its snowing
its beautiful and crisp and pure
but some aspects have been touched, dirtied, forming an unattractive blemish in a perfect white
what if we spend our whole lives thinking we are the snow, only to discover that we aren't?
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poems;
Poesisome not entirely logical words, jumbled together to make something mildly logical
23.27 pm;
its snowing
its beautiful and crisp and pure
but some aspects have been touched, dirtied, forming an unattractive blemish in a perfect white
what if we spend our whole lives thinking we are the snow, only to discover that we aren't?