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Everything
I felt small
The world was bullying me
They were hungry to talk
Frantic to talk
Dreadful talk
All to me
They were like the work of an evil child
I felt unwanted
It went a thousand miles in every direction
Dangerous was the talk desolate was me
Dying was what I felt
And then I talked to him
He felt my reluctance
He was friendlier
He gave me his good and dug out my bad
He knew how to help
The beads and drops of colored fires
Turned into ice that is as bright and clear as a crystal
I thought differently
The sun angled in a direction that I could understand
The world wasn’t bullying me
I was bullying me
I didn’t talk I kept it in
And now I talked to him
I told him everything
I began to believe everything can be beautiful
Because of him
Everything is good
Because of him
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This is a found poem with the words from the excerpt Travels With Charley by John Steinbeck and words from the short story, A Toast to the Oldest Inhabitant: The Weather of New England by Mark Twain.