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1 pointTwo star sisters, too busy for time Grew up in a house a bit like mine A few more windows A few more birds But if you were to describe it you would use similar words So what became of the gross-green sides? What was the fate of the light-leaning leaves? When you wake up what cracks do you see in the plaster? Or have you taken to sleeping past dawn? Star sister, your grease-gleaming puckered skin used to reflect light like the spotted moon Your deep blue veins flew out like flares from your wrists Star sister, you were never pretty, but you still made a sweet poem One star sister, empty as rhyme Her home merely a place to dine New curtains for the windows New roof spikes for the birds And none of it's that different now from my life, or yours
1 pointlet my walls crumble even if I am tossed beneath the columns the rubble of what I was once constructed of the remains of my potential, all my what-ifs and coulds and shoulds red-smeared marble is impure crumpled; unnatural in texture corinthian carvings etched onto my skull for now I see through the glass darkly and commaless phrases only add my dearest to my destruction of structure the demolition of myself from the inside daggers wedged below my skin since childhood cloaked phrases swim below the surface there is beauty in destruction in pain in ruins no candles to light the way to the top sparks must come from somewhere else one by night two by water maybe the sparks have died when they touch the ground dew-coated grass smothering the small infinity of an explosion my walls will fall from within
1 pointI'm working on editing some of my better poems from middle school right now, so here's one of those edits: someone lit your Hate aflame and taught you not to see when you Kill now you're shooting bullet holes in the cosmos splashing the night with Blood and everything you've forgotten