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Sometimes flood damage can build character |
Watermarks The watermarks life gives us The scars that it provides The stamps we gain on entrance The ink, it stains outside And though we try to hide them The stains such times provide A sign that’s held up to the light No matter how we shied Away from fervent readers Touching, brail like, our scars That pain, that substance feeds us Makes us unique to our parts More than just an open book With no dog ears paged Paper flat and pristine, white Belying its true age With no grit geared through the fonts And neat print on display Old ink should look dated Its in watermarks, we play Puddles jumped in, settled An outline over time A flash of colour freckled Completes the rough hewn lines To the sketches that confine us In stained stark strains of doubt We try to stay within the lines But colours, they bleed out With scabs that heal over And mortal wounds that don’t Roles in which our souls play … The stories where they won’t Times when spines stay unbent With stories never read Safe, shelved high and unspent Whilst flood damage, it spread Smudging tomes stored lower Each cautious leaf and turn Distorted text read slower Marked in books and burnt Burnt into that tattoo Earned long over time Bared in shame we have to There’s pride in the design Flood tides mark the lines bought Harsh truths and lies we’re sold Underneath stains, time taught Our stories, they are told To the ones that choose to read us To the ones who get the plots As life’s needles, the bleed us They mark us, and our lots The lots that we are granted The plots that twist and bend It’s the water marks that make us … distinctive in the end |