A/N: Hello lovelies, it's been quite a while. Here's a short piece I'm thinking of submitting to my school's literary magazine~ ^^ That's really not the real title, I'm still pondering and I'll replace in the future with something better if I think of something better. Let me know what you think (and if you can relate!), if you'd like.
And so it happens again.
Every single time.
When you strive for perfection, this world shall not allow.
Or perhaps it’s the white, that would be enough to satisfy.
White, where it belongs,
Not everywhere, but.
Sometimes it is other hues, but mostly white.
But anyway, the world is wrong.
Or is it I?
Was it something I did? Something I said?
In another life?
To be wronged in such a way, in this simple act, who deserves it?
Certainly not I.
(I hope.)
Yet the evidence is clear, imprinted into the side of the hand,
The stains of a never-ending battle shall remain forever.
(If I don’t use an adequate amount of soap.)
The white slowly colors,the ombré of grays left trailing behind.
I gather the remnants of my tattered heart; turn the page,
And the cycle repeats forevermore.
