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Face to Face

There is but just one of me,

Yet I can show a thousand faces to the world.


Trying desperately to bare and console my true image,

That it may remain for at least someone.

.

Through fear, reluctance and grief,

My confidence betrays me,

Ensuring it is vehemently guarded under this depraved surface.


Anguished, racked and subdued with emotion,

That desperately rages a pernicious war within.

There is no solace or release,

My only freedom bound with a cost of bittersweet peace.


For any absolution requires sacrifice,

Face to face I witness my broken self,

My true identity.


Here I am…

Empty, numb, defiled and damaged.

Torn, mocked, beaten and reviled.


There is nothing left to see,

This person is lost,

Forgotten,

Taken from life.


Before the best was to come.

Before I knew there was more to see.

Before time was ready for me.


What person could I have become?

What face would the world have truly seen?

If I had been left to fulfil my life’s hopes and dreams,

To have pursued the passion in this heart,

These burning desires and interests.


Curiously, I see my face so clearly at the moment of death,

As tender silence befalls,

Effortlessly eradicating my abhorrent wounds and scars,

Whilst erasing the cracks in this visage.


So that I might see,

For one brief and mere moment,

The very person I was meant to be.

© 2021 Alana Bembridge

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