chapter 24: 'what doesn't come to light'

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Isn't it ironic?

To admire someone's feats

resting blind to their ways

To love the responsible

for the scars on your heart

And to get to hate

With who you shared nightmares in the past,

Because you mother's hands,

Draped by a coat of red,

Fought the monsters in the closet,

Because the blood that flowed,

through your father's veins that night,

Is in the end the same as yours,

Because your sister knows you so well,

That when she shoots an arrow to the heart

It carries poison on the head,

Because at the end of the day,

What we most strongly feel,

Is linked to who we know the most,

To who are exactly like us.

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