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Mar 2013
Youth, my beautiful lie
Forever weaving falsehood’s web
Adding more threads as the years slip by
To cover the frays
Begun by Time
For the work is too delicate to patch.

Death, my painful truth,
You watch my futile fiction grow
Waiting till you can cut
The tapestry from the loom
Your scythe sharpened,
Waiting,
To bring me into veracity.
Elaenor Aisling
Written by
Elaenor Aisling  27/F/body in U.S. heart in U.K
(27/F/body in U.S. heart in U.K)   
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