Seeing Rainbows

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Rainbows turn into brick arches,
formations like birds flying by,
not quite reachable,
circles surround us
over and over
people cry but don’t feel
it makes sense
and suddenly everything does;
like my little sister
caught in a sandstorm.
When she grabs my hand
hers turns icy cold.
She lives in a fuzzy world,
mine is harsh,
sudden like morning frost on branches.
I hate when people say that sunrise is like rebirth,
it reminds me of death
just like my little sister seeing rainbows
when she takes my hand.





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