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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() Rot away the ache in your chest, Let it crumble to dirt. There are gardens to fertilise, Plants yet to grow. Devour the ice in your veins, Churn it around until it melts. The water it leaves will dribble down your chin, Will soak the collar of your shirt. Have you turned soil between your fingers?
Have you pressed the seeds into the ground? Where did you hear that they wouldn’t grow? Turn off the T.V. Close your books. Feel the rain wash away the tangled roots. All that time you spent underground, Ripping yourself apart, Afraid of the dark. You only had to turn on the light. You only had to dig. Isn’t this luscious? The living, breathing Earth And the writhing creatures That live in her crust. Beauty grows among these dead things, The world is rich among these dead things. Here At the bottom of the ecosystem You will grow a garden. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
May 2023
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