Mirsha and the Mountains of Miracles

Mirsha was happy little seven-year old girl. To most, she was considered quite normal. She enjoyed playing with her dolls, running around outside, and pretending to be a princess. She often wore a pink tutu and a tiara, simply because she could, and when she couldn’t, she pouted in an adorable and heart crushing manner. When asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would smile real big, showing off her missing front teeth, and reply enthusiastically, “A Unicorn!” then run away giggling. She looked just like her mother; golden blonde hair and eyes of hazel—which some people would tell her were the eyes that fairies had—porcelain skin and dimples straight from a cartoon.
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sl33p

little lingering drops of hope
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dr3am_log1c

Dreams
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Succumbs the Date

Words keep falling
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wheRe yoU beloNg

Tristan hit the ground fucking hard.
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wrong•donk•song

People keep on writing
__Poetry that sucks
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Castles Turn

Insect love
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The Welcome Note to the Journal

This is my Dragon Journal,
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Wallowed Creativity

     Building things was never my strong suit. Continue reading

be

…to be bountiful is to be beautiful…