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"We are such stuff as dream are made on;"
"And our little lives are rounded with a sleep."

Eye of The Storm

March 20, 2021


She looks at herself, pondering what to do. 
She wipes her tears off her face and asks herself
"What have I become?" 
She grabs a piece of paper and starts to write.
She writes like the world is ending.
She sticks the paper in her dresser and cries.
She continues to look at her face but in more detail.
Her hazel eyes are surrounded by rings of pink and red,
Her pink lips that are glossed by cherry chap stick,
Her wild hair that hasn't been brushed for a while.
She looks away.
She turns off the light. 
Rainbow lights begin to flicker in her room.
She turns on a playlist, sad and slow.
"Tell me pretty lies, look me in the face,"
"Tell me that you love me, even if it's fake."
Playing over and over again. 
She lays on the floor, thinking of everyone.
She thinks her family, the ones who have been surrounding her.
She thinks of her best friend, the one who is worried.
She thinks of her friend, the one who didn't care.
She thinks of her crush, the one who doesn't notice.
She begins to cry.
All the good and bad memories rush to her head.
She remembers rolling down bright green hills,
She remembers the thrill of being on stage,
She remembers arguments with friends,
She remembers losing those she loved most.
She remembers experiencing all types of emotion.
An epiphany of emotion.
She can't tell what this feeling is.
It feels like a hurricane.
But it is also calm.
She isn't feeling happiness, sadness, anger or pain,
She is only feeling the eye of the storm. 



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  • March 20, 2021 - 10:09pm (Now Viewing)

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