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May 2017
At seventeen I swore I’d never change,
this promise broken time and again-
the longer my hair falls out of my head
and the more I move and grow and
ebb and flow, can’t I be something a little more
static?
Snap me back like a piece of elastic.
Pierced ears are something more than
a framed photo of defiance because
I won’t let these holes close up but
sometimes I wonder
if you’ve just moved to another part of the country.
Would you recognise me, if you saw me?
Martha O'Brien
Written by
Martha O'Brien  UK
(UK)   
343
   Lior Gavra
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