All posts tagged: free-style

I Saw a Ghost

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Poetry

From poppies Opium is born Not dust, Emerging from Crushed dark seeds.   Subjective beauty And a creative tinge. She bites her lips, A full-blown plastic Moon Floating in an ocean Of red feathers.   Opium is born Not dust, Emerging from Crushed dark seeds. They decorate The crumbs That feed the birds.  You take a bite, Like them you fly And you stop crying.   If you were crying.   You bite her lips […]