Through the lens of a fading
photo, my countenance
looked so happy.
But over time it morphed into
gloomy sunsets and blooming
parasites.
All of this is traced with a rose
pencil, leaving an empty
outline of the me who
disappeared.
Now someone else in my stead
has appeared.
Apparently she’s the one who
was truly me from the beginning
and God found her.
This book of poems is a testament
to the things she only understands.
Deep down inside, she knew all
along something was amiss.
But now she’s being fixed by
the Lover of Souls.
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