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You would think,
That with the widespread tragedy that wiped all the good in one go,
She would be among those,
With forlorn, sunken eyes and heads hung low.

You would assume,
That with all the bruises, cuts and especially that indelible scar,
Just like everyone else,
She would be even from her own self quite far.

You would imagine,
That the familiar starlight,
Would be visibly dim in her eyes,
Just like the despairing, dark, cloudy skies.

But it was hardly so,
And not even the most eligible identity gazer would ever know,

That in her healing heart,
Stood hope, in all its proud glory,
After dauntlessly clawing its way out,
Of the midnight black, wintery tunnel of despair.

And even though it was still delicately sprouting,
Somehow, it made all the difference.

A/N: This is my entry for WP_Poetry 's 'February has affection' contest. Wish me luck!

And just like I promised... This part of my poem is dedicated to...

TheAfricInk! Please check out his work!

Comment for a dedication!

Have a nice ☀/🌙!

Goal: 7 votes and 7 comments.

In My Feelings//Watty's 2019//Where stories live. Discover now