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May 2018
As the temple throbs
For each wham of a thought
A push back is made
Leaving you distraught.

As each stitch is cut
And the wound gapes wide
The light in your eyes dims
Your gaze cast aside.

You question yourself:
"How can a heart, once young and ready,
Turn its petals to shades of ash,
And cower when it wants to be happy?"
Mary Coleen
Written by
Mary Coleen  22/F
(22/F)   
293
 
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