The Way It Was

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I sleep with a face bare; it is though that remains subtle

No layers

One complexion

Maybe imperfect;

studded with voids

scars never healed

blemishes never recovered

imperfections never perfected

with a broken heart never mended.


I read all about it;

I prepare myself for what I sign up for

The song that I wrote, no one'll hear it

My light beneath the shadow is so hollow.


It's battle born

When your flesh and bone is what your consistence defines

We're all running out of time

This shield that we are under is beyond our misery

Isolation is our best friend

Solitude is our parent

Vengeance is our guardian;

The human mind is an atomic bomb–

that is ready to explode in any second that comes to its alert

A mind

A shining armor...

A runaway.


But the first thing that comes to my mind when I wipe my makeup off at night

Is that

It may be the last time I sleep,

Last time I attempt to put effort into myself

Last time I decide to run my fingertips along my skin


Will it be the way it was before?

New, improved, barren?

I just remembered driving

Across the shimmering lake

That reflected my pearl brown eyes

Those golden nights


There was a paradise hidden behind the filth; dug deep beneath the dust

In the wind

In my love

In my life.


When I take my makeup off at night

I know

That

It will be the last time.


I am not preparing for a good night's rest

I am not preparing to pamper myself for the evening

I am preparing myself for my life to be taken away from me.

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