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cry-synthemum

I wonder if I was born as a chry'santhemum destined to be crushed mercilessly on the stampeded gravel. Smothered and Sun dried in yellows of madness and unkindness,  hurled and smeared in the most quiet corners of the dark closet. Blooming blandly, wilting in. Forgotten defaced. Surfacing to breathe and blossom unnoticibly with blatant resilience. I must give up to my fate undelibly engraved in the palms of communion. But I must give up today to the harrowing foccult's freedom of madness, submitting to the named scorching sun of my existence. farewell shreds of self. Until we meet.  

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had I gone by myself

I come running back here whenever unkindness hammers down on me like hailing uninvited rain. Heart resolving that it always was too delicate to withstand cruelty of ever changing face of people I 've shattered my miniscule self for. Yet this heart break only reminds me of my capacity to break a little more, hurt a little more, thus reflecting the depths unknown  of my miniscule self. Teaching me not to undermine its oceanic trench capable of drowning in so much more. It's resurgence leaves me awestruck. And yet I cannot forget. And yet I cannot believe. Would it have been easier 'had I gone by myself'?