Kept in shadows of misfortunate fractures of light
a dull grey clinking could be heard as she
makes her way across the forgotten boat dock--
a lost image of a girl resting her head against
her knees reaching to catch the gloomy waters.
Her appearance matched the old dock as her
hair scrambled about her face,
like grass growing over the rusty metal.
That was I.
You could only see a forgotten labor,
with a young pair of dark eyes to match
where I see the beauty of a metal treasure
hiding its own from the open.
Staring at an expression of my future,
the water it was.
Perfectly content with scooping up rocks and
watching them fall to the bottom--
yes, that was I.
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