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Aug 2018
A special place is held within my heart,
For that which has mattered since the start.

The first a jacket, of red and black,
And memories that take me back,
To when I wore two lapels and a hood,
And the days were long, and the nights were good.

But I traded that one, for a hoodie of grey,
That I still have, even to this day.
It seemed so calm, and cool, and still,
When life was not, and I had no skill.

Till overtop I wore the black,
That I still love, when I look back,
And I was smooth, and free, and bad,
In that fake leather that I had.

But the fake is gone, and trenchcoat's in,
But I started loosing, when I meant to win.
I liked that coat, it was brown and slim,
And is a link to accepting, being feminine.

But out with the old, and in with the new,
It's black again, like the old times too.
But who wears this coat, I know it's me,
But who is this coat, going to be?
I've worn five very different coats, as five very different 'me's.
I remember very well which me wore which coat, and when I changed them.
The Last Wordsmith
Written by
The Last Wordsmith  New Zealand
(New Zealand)   
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