Sick Boy

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I can still see it clearly, tree trunk arms heavy with muscles glowing in rage.
A compass leading into the depths of irrationality, the city is filled with friends of friends and faces dipped in familiarity yet the streets keep leading me to dark hair lined by streaks of dusk and high cheekbones glossy under the summer sun. Jade green veins popping up from underneath your skin just below the wrist, forming maps of places I could never get to know. Turbulent voices laced in confidence but I could tell when it cracked falling low reaching for the ground gazing into the dirt with eyes that screamed of superiority closeted fears of rejection and loss of love yet to be found.

As skyscrapers of guilt so easily slept beneath a heart so bleak, clouded with fractures of repressed emotions waiting to be set free as you stand in line trying to fulfill youthful desires. Don’t forget who you are, who you used to be.
It’s never too late to late to take a dip into reality, muffled sounds and beaten down arms that beg for your return. It’s never too late to open your eyes.-H

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