She is trying to describe a thought
without using words. The images
she sees are like pools in which
she swims. Belonging only to her.
Never experienced youth, always
felt older than her age. Outsider
in the roles she got. Her heart
is a forest of colourful trees,
every ring on the trunk carries
a short story of a life lived.
Our sense of who we are
is lost in our illusions
of what we think we should be,
what we think other people
expect us to be. Should we wake,
uncover our blindfolds, and open
our hearts to the person we are.
And paint the sky with our fingertips.
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