”Now, she’s a worry made of gray..”

She once believed that

Life, the one she live in

depended on people’s thoughts

It surrounds her mind

consumes her, drives her


Impress, she must

Bits of everything

Constructed into something

Considered perfection

She was compelled

“you have to.”

It echoes, repeated

She failed to realize

Her soul, away and away

Slowly, surely

She was a bliss

Made of colour

Now she’s a worry

Made of gray

She found herself

Not too late

She started over

Painted again

Filled the holes

She once left

wide open

She turned around

Cleared off

her obstacles

Worry again

No, she did not

She stopped depending

Left it off

Let them  burn away

She began to see

Wonders, exist

True colours, exited

Fascination, herself filled

All poems by me are very open to your own interpretation. I, of course, have my own.
Written on 30 October 2016, a little before midnight.  

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