Bless your soul

There comes a time when your career is a pleasant memory, 

just like high school.

As pleasant as a thriller

The shameful moments remembered with a slight sigh of joy consuming the past

I remember thinking, I want to be like her

Ever since I was

Since I was 

I was

 

If I re-enter those toilets

where I washed my hands

without staring at the mirror

scared to be confronted

with how I looked, I did not matter

How will I know if the old me,

is glad to be me now

 

At least I can see me more clear now

I wish love could see her too

 

Adore you, 

 

Shivafeli

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