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Upon her face it glows, and the fire in her eyes burns with the intensity of a thousand suns. Brighter are the days ahead, when at last the world bare witness. Cast your gaze, wonder not if she’s unhappy, for her face tells the story. Alas, the moment has not yet come and she feels time slipping away, seemingly faster each passing day. It’s a simple thing, invoked by thoughts and feelings but it’s utterly useless without presentation. It gives much, yet costs so very little. She can make it happen, she just can’t show it to you. She keeps it pointed inward and so slowly it kills her.
I wrote this so very long ago and it still evokes strong emotions. I’m in a slightly different place these days but still struggle because the world does not know me yet. The poems as of late are a bit more positive. Perhaps I’ll share as my transition shifts to a higher gear. Love you
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