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Snow is deeper than thought

I can’t think, I just can’t
It’s too white, too bright, too clean
For the haul of my ideas, the messy, dirty slew of my random thoughts
All different hues and shapes
All so blatantly not white, non conformist
All so like me
Because I am not the snow, I am not white, and delicate, and vulnerable
I am fire; I am human lust for something so wonderful that it’s been labeled as fiction
The snow will try to smother me
And I will try to melt it




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