Prompt: Write a concrete poem.
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Day 30. Praise - Cento
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting To feel that waking is another sleep Blind go the days, but joy will see Wh...
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I’m watercolor, mere splash of self, leaking runnels of prussian blue From eyes that no longer see. My skin blurs and smudges My outline obs...
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Well Hell…. The irony is not lost to me That I am blocked by negativity -And forced into inactivity - By conceiving this verse on posit...

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