BROKEN 

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I said I would dare, but not tear
Thy heart, an apple tree in the wild
I’d love to sit under its shade.


All that, was of thy only one

Who left my heart needing stitches

Don’t mistake me for Mendes
But I won’t trip again

Well, well, well
She said it well
I was the Mr. Jailer
Only that I didnt call her a prisoner
But her prison was next to my arms.

Being the man I was
She killed from the inside
She left me needing a place to hide.

Now my innards wanna show
But I play the strings too slow
To keep me from me
And let me be.

They say, “He drinks wine”
Yes, but she loved me still
And also left me to heal
I was just but a chord
She was learning to play.

My heart was like a viola
That she left untuned.

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Crimson Peak

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Thomas opened the door slowly as he ran words over his mind as to what to tell Agatha. They loved each other as per God’s eye but his plans had soon come to a tragic end. Her father was clear with instructions. As of that night he was ordered to intensively break Agatha’s heart and for the morning to come he was to leave with his sister back to the devil that had nursed them.

Agatha’ s father followed him to see the manifestations of his words. She stood a few steps away from the door of her father’s office and for a moment Thomas felt a fear that maybe she had heard the conversation that went on.

She broke into a smile and let out a breath in relief that he shall walk away from her broken and wounded but his sins tucked under a few ears. His knees burnt as he pulled himself to her. She brightened
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Purpose

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Well thought piece of writing. Life ain’t always what it seems. Find your purpose and define it. Make a path for yourself where there seems to be no way. We have choices to make and dreams to achieve but nothing on a silver platter. Find the inner you and let it soar like a bird set free.

bellejemutai

Tittle is purpose, but no, I am not going to write about Justin Bieber’a album. I am going to write about something that many teenagers are not familiar on. Purpose. My great friend, her name is Irene, asked me the other day why I go to school. That question actually caught me by surprise because honestly, I have no idea why I go to school. I guess it’s because I have to since my parents have paid school fees. But that’s not the answer I gave Irene. I told her it’s because in my own perspective, we go to school because we have no other choice. We are our parents investments. If they pay school fees to take us to school, then we are expected to read as hard as we can, get good jobs and later help our parents and live good lives. In that case, the investment was…

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A Night Thought

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Lo! where the Moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
Oft is she hid from mortal eye
Or dimly seen,
But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien!
Far different we–a froward race,
Thousands though rich in Fortune’s grace
With cherished sullenness of pace
Their way pursue,
Ingrates who wear a smileless face
The whole year through
If kindred humours e’er would make
My spirit droop for drooping’s sake,
From Fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!
A counter impulse let me take
And be forgiven

The Dawn’s Awake!

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The dawn’s awake!
A flash of smoldering flame and fire
Ignites the East. Then, higher, higher,
O’er all the sky so gray, forlorn,
The torch of gold is borne
The Dawn’s awake!
The dawn of a thousand dreams and thrills.
And music singing in the hills
A pæan of eternal spring
Voices the new awakening
The Dawn’s awake!
Whispers of pent-up harmonies,
With the mingled fragrance of the trees;
Faint snatches of half-forgotten song—
Fathers! torn and numb,—
The boon of light we craved, awaited long,
Has come, has come!”

Summer Night

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Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me
Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me
Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me
Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me