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New Poem: “portrait 8”

not even looking
since looks could deceive
the fact that she
used to know
someone like me –
not fashionably dressed,
not from the city –
any traces of roots
relating her to me
were to be cut
if she could –
how she must have fought
and lied and tried
to hide her dialect
in order to fit in
to a place
that never liked her
to begin with –
you know,
I always thought myself
her friend –
now I know
that my time was wasted –
she never wanted
acceptance –
she wanted annihilation
and she got it –
there’s nothing left of her
except this shell
that passes me
not even looking –

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