《Poetry; Sure It May Hurt》The River And The Things That Washed Up After

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Kicking, skipping, and throwing rocks by the river we used to swim in every summer.

The river that held sooo many memories, the good, bad, and everything in between.

From the river flowing slowly, silently, that it almost looked like time itself had frozen for everyone to see it's beauty. From frosty mornings at 4AM going to work with your mom just watching out the window to the river, so calm. So cold. Yet, it warmed your heart.

To times when the river was so unapologetically violently sweeping everything and everyone that dared to cross it's path, the people left behind; no one would have survived a rage like that. So, horrible, it damaged the town for so long. Washed away homes and the memories that contained them.

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