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Being
The world is my eye,
music is my hand,
writing is my soul.
My mind grasps my sense of reality,
My ears bite and taste the words etched in the air,
my willowed voice a beautiful lull;
a purr swallowing the world whole
turning it tranquil, awake.
Turning it orange,
pink,
red,
blue,
green,
purple.
Tinting it with every word I chant,
with every syllable I belt,
skinning the cloth over my eyes,,
revealing something so raw so real,
so piercingly true.
Tinting it tranquil, platonic, awake, humble, peaceful, rare, ALIVE.
Contouring shades of doubt, uncertainty, blood, adrenaline, ALIVE.
Like an angel hammering your heart,
freeing your body,
freeing your soul
begging you to LIVE.
Beating your lungs,
cooking your chest,
baking your love,
Pumping you alive.
Kissing you,
accepting you,
loving you.
Never trying to change you,
realizing the uniqueness of you.
you in all sense of being;
been, being, becoming
YOU.
You will always be,
an infinity,
a reality,
a being,
a essense,
an energy
Ever-changing;
Like a plant growing in strength and ambition,
growing toward moon and sun,
at the dawn of an ever new day.
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Teenagers are capable of philosophical concepts; we are not limited due to are age, much rather what is expected of us.