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Writer's pictureshsimages

the beauty of time | lara decastecker

your frail fingers are

burning bright red.


your lanky legs cannot

move any further.


harsh beads of sweat are

pouring down your cheeks as they

cast their shadows;


i quickly subside.


your clouded muddy grey eyes refused to open;

my warm chocolate eyes are wide awake.


you ran out of an empty room;

i enter crowded parties with stride.


you let warm tears escape you all night;

i smile my pearly white teeth all day.


you hid inside your small, cramped room;

i can't help but go outside to socialize.


you couldn’t help but get attached to the unhealthy;

i add good people into my life daily.


you were easy to manipulate and control;

i know how to handle myself with pride.


you couldn’t stand up for yourself;

i will when it's necessary, i won’t be kind.


nevertheless, you and i are the same.


just one is from the past

and the other is in the present.


she was grey.

trapped.

she’s gone.


i’m a brown hue.

free.

i’m new.

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