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Literature Text
No more angels,
Guardian or otherwise,
Exist in my life since you left.
Fleeting breath through paper skin,
Farewells on the end of a whisper,
The sky seems a bit darker today,
Birdsong hushed in the mourning.
I miss you dearly
On days when the world is a bit too cruel.
Hiding in the embrace of your wings,
Echoes of your strength rebuilt in my solidarity,
A crumbling foundation.
How difficult it is to face the world alone.
What a cruel fate.
To have
And then have not.
Literature
Another one...
A school is a place of higher education But some of us didn't make it to graduation As we cry and say a prayer for the fallenAsking our higher power not to let another event happenAnother oneSchool shooting Back in the day She did because she hates MondaysWe cried and remembered, and we prayedThat it will not happen once again Another oneIt happened again At Columbine High SchoolAs two boys used the school like a video game Doom After the years go by They still remember the name and pray it won't happen again Another one
Red Lake, MinnesotaThis one wasn't in the media But 10 people died and 7 were injured He also killed his grandfather on the Indian reserves We pray again for it not to happen...Another oneAt Virginia Tech33 didn't make it23 life was altered "Had to do it for his brothers and sisters", The third-deadliest mass shooting by a lone gunman We prayed that it wouldn't happen again Another oneThis 20-year-old student returned to Lindhurst High SchoolBreaking 4 families' hearts
Literature
Hall of Mirrors, a Poem
I see myself in a funhouse Hall of Mirrors
I see my reflections all around me
Some mystify me, while others merely make me laugh
Others haunt me still
Each stretched, and twisted reflection is a window into my soul
To my left, I see a big smiling face
Pearly whites peeled back from ear to ear
I imagine this is what others see me as
A clown of sorts with a plastered smile
To my right, I see a long face
Its frown pulled and stretched downwards
Zig and zagging like lightning
This is how I see myself
Another sad soul
Before me, I see a gigantic, balloon-like head
Too large for its body yet confident in its appearance
Not afraid of what others think
This is how I wish I were
Behind me, I see nothing but a speck
Too minuscule to make out much detail
Nothing but a colored dot swimming in a reflective, shiny sea
This is how I feel inside
I exit the Hall of Mirrors
Nothing had changed
Literature
Two-Talent Man: 7
CW - Some Graphic Imagery, Situational Trigger Warnings
By the time he made it to the precinct, he realized that he’d left his notes and most of his research tools (as well as his flask) back at his apartment. Snagging a donut from behind the front desk, he tried to recollect what information on the Green case he’d gathered thus far. It was difficult to steady himself without said flask, but with a great effort he pushed the matter out of his mind and wrestled the previous day’s findings to the forefront. The obvious was the question of what had happened to the coroner’s report; why had one page been photocopied? Where was the original? Why that page and not the others? What else had been on it? He’d written the name of the coroner and the date of the report down, but, not having that information on him, made his way begrudgingly back to the evidence room to look again. This morning, manning the desk to the evidence room was Ernie.
“Morning, Ernie,” River greeted loudly, smiling and
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