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Her hair is the color of gold. Her eyes are ever-changing, such as the sky. Her skin, fair and untainted as a newborn babe's. Her smile, warm and soft as the morning sun. Her heart, made of glass; cracked but still whole. Her sorrow's as deep as the sea; Her happiness wains with every wave of turmoil. But somehow, every day, her joy is renewed and she finds a light in the darkness.
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
The Girl
Her hair is the color of gold. Her eyes are ever-changing, such as the sky. Her skin, fair and untainted as a newborn babe's. Her smile, warm and soft as the morning sun. Her heart, made of glass; cracked but still whole. Her sorrow's as deep as the sea; Her happiness wains with every wave of turmoil. But somehow, every day, her joy is renewed and she finds a light in the darkness.
I tried to describe the best parts of myself. I'm not self-absorbed, I promise.
poetryandthorns
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Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
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