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Literature Text
I tried to watch the sky fall
but you were sleeping...
and the clouds had rolled in
when I wasn't looking.
I stood on the terrace
disappointed and ready to give up
but I saw a streak of silver
in the corner of my eye.
I couldn't tell if I was crying
Or if a star had crossed my path
but I couldn't look away
in case I missed something...
So I just stood there
Leaning out over the railing
Neck craned at an impossible angle
Needing more.
but you were sleeping...
and the clouds had rolled in
when I wasn't looking.
I stood on the terrace
disappointed and ready to give up
but I saw a streak of silver
in the corner of my eye.
I couldn't tell if I was crying
Or if a star had crossed my path
but I couldn't look away
in case I missed something...
So I just stood there
Leaning out over the railing
Neck craned at an impossible angle
Needing more.
Literature
Hitler's Lullaby
Hush, little baby,
Don't say a word.
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird won't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.
Even though the skies are black,
And filled with smoke from the burning racks.
The lingering air here reeks of gas,
No, little girl,
We're not coming back.
But if you close your eyes real tight,
You can pretend everything's alright.
And maybe it won't seem so bad,
If you remember all the love we've had.
Hush, little baby,
Close your eyes.
And dream of yellow butterflies.
When you wake,
We'll be gone,
From this world where we don't belong.
Literature
Memories - Germany X Italy
The muscular blonde man bulleted through the broad, lusciously-green forest. It was a colossal and majestic forest. This forest was where memories were composed.
Memories
It was the forest where he first met his handsome lover
. The forest where he shared his first kiss with his pasta-loving Italy
. The forest where he first confessed his love for Feliciano. His Feliciano.
Memories
Memories that seemed to slowly vanish with each step.
Germany didn't want to think about such memories, remembering these times were only cluttering his already-crowded-with-worry mind. The key now was t
Literature
gay American
I am gay. I am an American. I contributed to President Obama's campaign, I get emails from him everyday, telling me what he is doing, how he is changing the world. How much better things are going to be for us all. But he never mentions me, or the millions like me.
I read in the morning paper that a man's property taxes went up from $1700 per year to over $10,000 a year. Just because his partner of 37 years passed away. Because they did not share the same rights that straight people enjoy. He is something less than an American. He is a gay American. Not even capitalized. Something to be loathed, laughed at, put down, beat up, picked
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