In My Past Life


In my past life I was a trapped soul,
Chained to the ground.
Trying to be my own person and break free.
In my past life I was a rose,
Covered in thorns and bitter.
Shaded and alone with no sun.
In my past life I was a curtain,
Flapping in the breeze of an open window.
Abandoned and torn.
In my past life I was a book,
Open and shedding feelings through bleeding words.
On aging paper waiting to be read.
In my past life I was a weed in a field of clovers.
Feeling out of place, waiting for the end to come.

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