Fiction writer and dragon slayer. Mother of cats. Moves through life like a brick wall. Note: these are living documents, and may be edited as I grow and learn.
All this mighty flare,
All this depthless sea,
All this hushed glory.
Your salt covers my skin, and every splash of sun fills me from the inside out.
Where will we make our intrepid home?
Where will you lead me?
Prose Poem: Sunshowers
Our masters have sold us.
Our value to them has been liquidated, and the false sense of security found in endless hours of work, can never be relived. Our domain was pitiful, but it was our own. We let ourselves believe that for a time.
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