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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2332761
A poem made from a stream of thoughts.
Encouragements, one of a child's most needed nourishment.
Without its help to grow, you'll end up old with a stunted dim flickering soul.
Often it seems out of the parents control since they also lacked their own.
If they don't ever plant seeds of hope, their child's likely to suffer from the infertile soil.
How far down does this painful hole of past generations go?
Now falling deep into it almost seems completely natural.
Watching the stable ground all around slowly erode,from its ability to continuously swallow.
So the question is do I choose to wallow in this pit of shameful regrets?
I guess when I give up climbing up out again, than I really am.
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