a woman (first) & a writer (last)

he puts pretty stones in my pockets

the ones to make me smile

they pull me to the earth

i am low

i am heavy

i can no longer be beautiful

when i want to be listened to

i can no longer have pretty lips

when i want to make them move

by Sariah Lake

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Ramblings of a Born-Again Sinner

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Treasure your worth without measure