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November 30, 2014: Poetry Personified When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table T.S. Eliot “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves And repeats word...

I just hope I can make something beautiful grow from every bit of dirt that has been thrown at me.

Stop running from the ghosts of yesterday, with their flimsy sheets and empty echoes, they don't define your tomorrows.

- ̗̀★ @bruisesx★ ̖́-