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Literature Text
My mother is the forest
My father is the mountain
And me, I'm the mall's seventeen year old fountain.
While hikers make a trek through dangerous terrain
People come to me, flipping in their change
While the Discovery Channel visits to make a documentary
People come over here, their child flipping pennies
Making their wishes, secretly asking for dreams
That they've wanted since before they were teens
But on you, discoveries are forged, memories made
A different outdoorsman changing his life, everyday
Pushing through the trees, pulling through the snow
From the mossy ground up to where nothing can grow
Peaks and summits, they've made a base camp
The air is so humid it makes your whole face damp
When they trudge through the forest, my dear dear mother
They rely on only themselves and each other
And father, when they climb up through the peak at such a high height
They do it without even the slightest bit of fright
But guys, please remember that I'm still here, too
I even still have the penny that they wished with for you.
My father is the mountain
And me, I'm the mall's seventeen year old fountain.
While hikers make a trek through dangerous terrain
People come to me, flipping in their change
While the Discovery Channel visits to make a documentary
People come over here, their child flipping pennies
Making their wishes, secretly asking for dreams
That they've wanted since before they were teens
But on you, discoveries are forged, memories made
A different outdoorsman changing his life, everyday
Pushing through the trees, pulling through the snow
From the mossy ground up to where nothing can grow
Peaks and summits, they've made a base camp
The air is so humid it makes your whole face damp
When they trudge through the forest, my dear dear mother
They rely on only themselves and each other
And father, when they climb up through the peak at such a high height
They do it without even the slightest bit of fright
But guys, please remember that I'm still here, too
I even still have the penny that they wished with for you.
Literature
Comic Book Hero
We met in the Summer, I was single and free,
So fragile and sweet, he took care of me.
He was so much fun, exciting and new,
It was all so amazing, too good to be true.
Like a comic book hero, he swept me away.
He promised me the world, the night and day.
But his heart was untrue, his words were lies.
No comic book hero, but a villain disguised.
Our romance was deep, like Superman and Miss Lane
Iron Man, Miss Potts, Spidey and Mary Jane.
He impressed me with gifts, and words sublime,
Affirmations of how he would always be mine.
Like a comic book hero, he swept me away.
He promised me the world, the night and day.
But his hea
Literature
It's Over
I like to see you happy,
Only want to see you smile..
Just take a break from this never-ending
Search for love for awhile..
And all the answers that you are seeking
Will be troublesome for you to find
It might mean that everything is blurred in your eyes.
~
So if it's over, then let it end
Don't search for me,
For another begin,
Lets not be hurt again
When it's over, let it go
Because I'm not worth it,
Gotta let me go.
~
There is no other way to put this
No other words for me to say
You'll just keep losing your mind,
You'll just keep losing all your faith.
Maybe now you won't believe it
But there's not much time to spare
I know the thing
Literature
Forecast
Scars: map of past, not future.
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Comments5
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How excellent. I love the juxtaposition of the wild with the urban.
...did I just type that? So pretentious OTL. But good poem! Also how in 'the olden days' I guess people might have thought that the mountain and the forest were sacred, these days we make our wishes in the fountain, and nobody thinks it's special, but secretly people who wish hope it is. Or children believe it is. Or something. Anyway, we still have our sacred spots.
True
...did I just type that? So pretentious OTL. But good poem! Also how in 'the olden days' I guess people might have thought that the mountain and the forest were sacred, these days we make our wishes in the fountain, and nobody thinks it's special, but secretly people who wish hope it is. Or children believe it is. Or something. Anyway, we still have our sacred spots.
True