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May 2016
The smell of the city is beginning to wear off
Reality is setting into the fibers of my clothes
The monsters are waiting for me
Behind doors I closed as I left.
This skin I'm in is still the same.
I see the world through eyes that
Change color when I cry.
The very eyes that have seen everything I know.
Every terror and triumph
Logged in my same brain,
Filed and put away.
These fingertips have touched worlds both here and there.
Same heart, beating words I can never say.
But now my eyes stay brown.
I don't cry anymore.
Emilee Ayers
Written by
Emilee Ayers
318
     Rosen Blanche
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