growing in gray

A Writer's Soul

I find pieces of you in random acts I do,
Some startling, some easily retraced to you.
Heart torn and my heads a mess,
I never wanted to be like you,
So many times I prayed to never commit the same crimes you did,
And it was so much easier when I was younger,
To paint you in the black when I lived in the white,
But I find growing up paints the world in some sort of grey,
And I can’t decided where I fall,
Where I wish I didn’t, and where I so obviously do…

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