acosted by stains
then put through the wringer
turned and tossed
every which way
we then hang ourselves out to dry
after the deluge filled us up
thrashed us about and spun us dry
i’m desperately hoping that life
finally removes the remaining tears
acosted by stains
then put through the wringer
turned and tossed
every which way
we then hang ourselves out to dry
after the deluge filled us up
thrashed us about and spun us dry
i’m desperately hoping that life
finally removes the remaining tears
The symbolism in your poem hits hard.
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<3 Thank you, Sadje. I'm glad it came across.
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You’re very welcome
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Loved your poem.
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I’m happy it moved you, Diana!
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💓
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I hope so too. I really like this.
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Thanks so much, Violet!
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