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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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So now we’re on the road, road to nowhere, everywhere, anywhere Away Away from home, icy glaze on Cleveburn, crippled, concrete caves The caves I biked with my blonde neighbor Pumping petals, pumping hearts, our pupils wide, we are blind, so we kiss Kiss the dirty ramp. It’s hard to stay on the path So my blonde neighbor fell. Fell through my fingers Purposely drifting, fell down the eggshell tunnel I’m still on the road, feet beat pedals callous, for I rely on the road Found Cosette on the road, loosened limits on the road, it conducts my fate It’s where I’ll dig the blonde girl’s grave, independence is my shovel Because a burned redwood can still stand, but blonde girl is fallen dead And you bury the dead A rolling hill rolls by outside this never rolling window Cosette loves California But I’ll always pity blonde girl’s love for cigarettes and paranoia Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
November 2023
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