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Monday, June 1, 2015

Who is She?

Who is she,
That ugly old woman?
She says she grew up
Facing the vagaries of life.
Oh, didn't I do the same?
I would tell her
Had she not been so vain.
I looked at her eyes,
Puffed up as if she just cried.
I've spent sleepless nights crying,
I could tell her,
Had she been my friend.

Who is she,
That woman who looks nothing like me?
She is dressed up in black,
Mourning the death of someone akin.
Haven't I mourned deaths?
I have mourned them
Till there were no tears left.
I would let her know
But she seemed tearless herself.

Who is she,
The lady I couldn't like?
She runs her fingers
Through her long grey hair
And sings songs of despair.

'Who are you?'
I asked her, at last.
The answer I couldn't bear
As I kept looking
At the image in the mirror.

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