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Real eyes

2020 October 28th

Now that I’m over the hill
I can see it’s just made of
skeletons of dead monsters
that were never really there.
But that past is no less high
and no less there, and I am
no less on the other side of it.

—Terri Guillemets

Categories Personal Journal Tags age & aging, fear, midlife, past, poems, self
October-blood
Enclosed

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