I Wore Pain Like It Belonged to Me
I wore pain like it belonged to me, a weathered coat I would not shed.
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I wore pain like it belonged to me, a weathered coat I would not shed.
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Before the maps and border lines, Before the roads through jungle rain, The Harakbut walked these ancient vines
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High in Peru where condors glide, The guardians confront the sky. They shield the dead along the side
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Carla went still beside the chair, Warm noise moved through drink and glass. Yet something deeper caught her there,
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The ocean bit deep through ash and bone, Dark waves rehearsed a final scar. A ruined pulse stood there alone,
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The hook hides deep in borrowed praise, Soft mouths rush fast toward the gleam.
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Three times a day, we crossed the shore — Pipes kept rhythm near my feet, dancing the edge of every…
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I stand before the storm within, a tide of dread that rises fast.
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In the moonlit bay I stand, My conscience casts a shade, Cold waves revise my plan, Old debts demand be…
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In the hush where waters meet the land, A symphony soft and grand. Muddy waves, in gentle play,
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Featured poem: Whispers by the Watermill. A new piece from Silas Fen — The Rustic Poet collection.
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