In my global class, we wrote a bunch of haikus, and I’m really of the ones I wrote, since they are the first poems I’ve ever written. 172 more words
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He stood upon the beach beside the seawall, bent over in the cold, gray light of dawn, laboriously digging that endless pit again.
His hairless, sinewy fingers were painfully fixed around the smooth, well-worn handle of the old wooden shovel, which felt burdensome and awkward in his grip; each scoop of the dark, wet sand straining his tired, underdeveloped shoulders. 1,122 more words