Clouds
by Regan Burrell
Clouds
Relaxing in damp
Dry cotton ball.
Blackish, dark,
towering,
cotton wool.
Banging
to make
Thunderstorm.
My red dashed tear drops
by Miya El-Dessouky
My red dashed tear drops,
Staining the wooden floor.
Questions from the past,
Come back before.
The memories that are pierced,
Are slashing in my head.
The answers come from the future,
And in the letter that I read.
So my mind is still unanswered,
My patience gone before,
My sanity that I'm holding,
Is falling on the floor.
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