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Tile floor lies.

You pace the marble tile floor of the ballroom. It reflects your image almost perfectly. The creases of the tile split your body, cutting off all the parts of your personality in sections. You gaze down with a forlorn expression on your face.
Realizing that what you’ve become was making itself clear through the tile, as if it was purposely looking.
You see who you are, hair falling down over your weighted shoulders, eyes staring blankly with its sorrow filled iris‘s. Heart beating still with grief under your barely clothed body. Soul leaking out of its vile of contentment.

~~*~~

What’s wrong? Can’t you see what you’re staring at? You’re staring at me, a cold marble tile floor stretched out across this vast ballroom. Since you came along I have a face, a body, a soul, and a heart now. But why did you have to be the cold one? The one who has beauty, but uses it all wrong, the one who has everything, but takes it for granted, the one who can be whoever you want without being grounded in one place forever?
I cut you in parts to see if you’d get it, but I guess you’re just going without realizing who you are.





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