Thursday, 2 January 2014

shadows, colours, people.

    at the fringe of the circle she stood - an outsider among her own.
    she knew all of their secrets. the small ones, the big ones, the dirty ones. she knew the animosity hidden behind their smiles. she knew the words on their mind, so different from the ones that rolled off their tongues glibly. and yet as they chatted and laughed like they belonged, she was an outsider among her own.
    flashes of anger, moments of truth. she'd seen them all. "never again," they'd said. "moment of clarity" they'd called it. "to break free" they had desired. yet there they were, like nothing had changed. like the clarity had been clouded over. like it was the place to be. and she was still an outsider among her own.
    she had witnessed their moments of weakness. when lonely and scared they'd bared their hearts to her. she'd held their hands, lent her shoulder for them to cry upon. all was forgotten, and she just smiled. an outsider among her own.
    like a pile fallen autumn leaves they nestled together, cozy in each other's company. she could be the gust of wind that would blow them apart, drive them to the farthest ends of their little world. but she never tried, so things went on.
    at the fringe of the circle she remained - an outsider among her own.

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