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WINGS
"she wore a troubled past like wings"
wings of sorrow and grief.
she didn't enjoy the journey,
It killed her to grow them.
every feather ripped a little
Of her soul.
“She had been through hell”
Like any other person,
She wasn’t unique.
All people struggle,
So why write about her?
“And though no one could see her demons,
They could see the face that conquered them”
It was a mask,
Painted by the very people that troubled her.
It wasn’t pretty, it was ordinary.
She had no say,
Just like her demons,
Gnawing through her eyes,
Controlling the way she viewed the world.
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I wanted to write about my personal thoughts on my self-esteem, to show that people are all going through different things. Every person's experience is unique, but people are going through similar things.