Poetry

HarsH ReaLiTy

Can I write my way into your heart.

Making me fit by tearing myself apart.

Matching the image you wish me to be.

I rewrite myself again and again you see.

Trying to be what you have wished for,

by tearing the image I have born.

Will you know me in the morning?

Or will I awake to mourning.

Could you still love a memory?

An ever changing emotional flurry.

Or do you want me to stay this way.

A slave to what you think and say.

-OM

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