"Scarlett"

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Scarlett. A beautiful name as they say. The graceful red hue glistening in the sunset way. Oh Scarlett, how I wish I was no more. For Scarlett is not I, I know deep in my core. Scarlett is the past, following me as a taunt. It lives within in my memories, and forever shall it haunt. Scarlett may be a lovely name, but it is the burning flame that ignites the forest of the mind. It lights my soul with the match I cannot find. I wish it would let me be. I wish I could just be me. Oakley. Oakley is my name. Oakley is a meadow with not one drop of shame. A meadow so beautiful, it can shatter the morning rain. The name is very simple, it harnesses no pain. For if it were to hurt me, nothing shall I bring. So therefore I bring myself, I take it under my wing. For with this name I fly so high, I cannot see the ground. With this name, forever shall my heart pound. I shall never be chained to my prison from birth. I shall live forever free, only in my mirth. Scarlett may be a pretty hue, but what lies beneath is the lie I've been told. A thousand times over, onto it I no longer hold. The lie of my name, to bring to me only apathy. The lie that told me my false being, the one who sang unhappily. Scarlett is not my name, and never will it be. For Oakley is my name, and it fills my heart with glee.

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