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The Shadows at Midnight

The Torn Chrysalis

I’ve done what I could and yet the chrysalis grew,

I curled up inside, all around me it drew.

What made me itch and crave for the sun?

Perhaps the roar of the waves.

But in truth all I really craved

was the warmth of another’s

Breath on my cheek.

I stretched and then came the tear and with it an ache.

An ache from the sense that I know what I have,

that once I cross the invisible divide,

I will have nowhere to hide, the whole lot erased.

The camouflage of safety resides in the familiar,

Once I step outside, I’ll have to strive and cajole,

spin a new web of connections,

to reach out and belong.

Obstacles will seem brighter, under this red hot sun,

All the shadows much darker and from behind these I must come.

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