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I Write Poetry

My heart’s an old house, abandoned, aged. Over grown grass makes is difficult to trespass there. The windows are boarded up blocking any essence of sunlight. Weeds and old vines dance vicariously up the sides. Inside it’s cold and daunting. Quiet and lonely. Dust piled in each corner. It’s hard to believe this place was once full of life. I sweep to make the inside anew, but with each passing year it gets harder to do. Does the sun still shine outside even if I can’t see it?
Pfuzylogic · M
A very superior metaphor, I hope your heart hasn’t been abandoned this harshly.
Pfuzylogic · M
@lequack
It reads very heart felt.
That is why I commented.
lequack · 26-30, F
@Pfuzylogic Thank you. I appreciate it. My friends told me my writing is bad
Pfuzylogic · M
@lequack
I would encourage you to write anytime that you possibly can. The description of your heart made me shudder.
You have to live that to describe it.
I revived my writing here and I think you should do the same.
You have an obvious gift and passion.

 
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