Beginnings of March

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I forgot. I’ve ignored it. Better yet I stepped around it and stood tall and fierce. But I remember today how it felt. How small I was, how hard it hit. I remember the fear the terrifying fear. 

Did it change me? Did I let it unconsciously take hold of me? Do I still look around my shoulder and wonder if I’ll come face to face with the monster again? 


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There was she the eldest, tiny and round full of laughter and stories. She was who I went to for long talks and really funny moments we would cry so hard we’d cry. Her hair so white and her smile so bright. 

Then there is she the one that follows. Heart not as warm she is not as round. I go to her sometimes but not for long talks more for brief advice. But she is home and she reminds me of the eldest and that makes me smile.

Then there’s me the youngest, tiny and not so round. Will I be warm or cold? Will I listen to the one that follows or will I ignore? Will we die of laughter or smile just content? Who will I be like when it’s my turn 

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That feeling were your not sure and they see it and they feel it
Like a fragile piece of China, not resilient, not impenetrable, not willing to with stand a hard fall.
I hate that they see my cracks. That they question my words,
even when I’m right they might think I’m still wrong. It’s still my fault .

Well I’m not, and everyone has cracks some are more transparent than others. I’m still right and I’m still sure. Still……..


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