Wednesday, January 15, 2014

[Writing] Shown.

It's one of those times when she thinks she has thoroughly comprehend "the said and the done" one has shown her for the past recent days till one time, all the supposedly-no-longer-need-to-be-questioned things suddenly burst out before her eyes, before she was ready. Her dry suits are wet again. The dry marks re-came in absolute obvious tangible form. Didn't even able to steal a bit time to cover them up and still showed the dashing look along with a white expressionless mask.

The flaws are (finally) seen. As real as they seem. Can't she just step back, turn around and go effortlessly without being disturbed by the sound that keeps ringing in her head telling things, bad things then leave like dust on the windy road?

She doesn't deserve all this, if not by fate.
As courage has been forced to stand up in the first row, struggling toward someone or something so meaningful.
She doesn't deserve this, if not by need.
It's now or never, the answer has to be found. Oath has to be claimed.
She doesn't deserve this.
She deserves more... than this.

Most likely.


While listening: Pilgrimage - NIN

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