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Introspective Prose |
When it comes to talents in this world, I do believe I fall short. I can't do anything that anyone else couldn't be taught. I cannot do these things any better than anyone, understanding how to do them, could do w/enough practice. However, there is one thing that I do extremely well. This talent is, as they say, pulling the wool over everyone's eyes. I appear to handle problems w/grace. I appear to have control over myself & my emotional attachment to others that some come to envy. I dance before you w/grace, wisdom, & strength. Even at times, beauty. My love, all these things are nothing but an illusion. The only beauty & control that I truly possess is in my facade. However, even this is not flawless. Even in this careful dance, I lose my balance & stumble. It's all a white lie, you see. I use it to help others. Sometimes, I dance in my dress adorned w/tiny mirrors. I reflect your pain & fears. I spin & you catch a few dozen varying images of yourself. Sometimes, as I twirl, the mirrors catch the light, blinding you. Sometimes, they fill you w/a light, making you feel warm & whole. Below all these beautiful gowns, my skin is dirty & cold. To hold the illusion, I must keep in constant motion. For, should I ever slow, I may lose focus & forget which step comes next. My face is serene & wise, eyes closed & turn up towards the heavens. I must maintain this illusion. Below these smooth cheeks, a frown hides. Behind these close, upturned eyes, a storm rages, tears hide. My brow, so relaxed, is furrowed w/worry & frustration. Here is the myriad of secrets which few will know. My heart is not filled w//love, but hate. In my mind, there exists little wisdom & peace. Instead, therein lies confusion & a painful past that will not cease from breaking me. |
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