Everyday I watch her carve
A masterpiece she calls herself
With a blade instead of a paintbrush
And her skin instead of paper
I watch the colours swirl around her
I watch the way she carves
I watch her carve till she can carve no more
Because even before the final piece
There is nothing left to carve
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A poetry book of my journey through friendship, love, loss, personal growth, confusion, betrayal, resentment, hate, hope, light, and eventual healing.
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