Three

Golden days, 

Of rest, 

Relaxation and

Movies. 
And now, 

Back to the grindstone

To press my nosw harder 

Than ever

Before. 

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Three

Golden days, 

Of rest, 

Relaxation and

Movies. 
And now, 

Back to the grindstone

To press my nosw harder 

Than ever

Before. 

Sisterhood

Is not the

Same as brotherhood. 

We will attack for you, 

But our claws are sharper,

Our loyalty runs deeper. 

I can call my friends bitches, they’re

My bitches, but let that

Word pass your tongue

And I 

Will cut it

Out, and offer it to them, and they 

Would laugh. 

No man can touch us, make us

Compete, no

Man could ever touch

How deep our

Blood runs, how

Thick our bonds. 

Run boy, 

We will

Cut you to ribbons

Before you ever

Get near us.

Hermit

Is a good 

Title for me, 

I enjoy the

Quiet, the

Solitude. 

It is in the silence, alone with my

Inner self,

That I know myself and

So know

Everyone.

The Weaver

I am

A spinner

Of tales, a 

Weaver of stories that

Catch the light of what means the 

Most to my soul, 

And it shimmers, glistens,

Drips into 

Each word.

Floating

Smoke curls from

My lips, 

Tendrils reaching out,

Whisps of grey

Fingers reaching, 

And I am

Up there, with them,

Afloat upon the tide of

Thoughts and 

Calm.

When the Pain Comes

Let it creep over you,

It will start slow.

Your breath will 

Catch, a 

Dull ache forms, like a weight

Pressed onto

Your heart, soul, 

Like an arrow that

Flew with

Far too much 

Skill. 

And it spreads, 

Like cold and warmth, a 

Storm that 

Rains from your

Eyes, your 

Voice. 

Tremble with its power, but never let it consume you. 

From Afar

You can love someone

From a distance, 

See the sun

That shines within

Them, 

But know it

Would destroy you

To get too

Close. 

But wish them

To burn all the same, 

Even when what they have

Burned before is

You. 

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