Wednesday 4 June 2014

The enamel moon rises over the darkened land 
The stars sparkle like grains of sand 
The elusive stars flutter from our grasp 
Hanging just out of our begging clasp 
We remain grounded, covered in scars 
And shake our fists at the laughing stars 
We look up at the taunting sky 
And stand with an enduring sigh No matter how many times we tumble and fall 
We'll always dust off and stand up tall

-Sophia Randall




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