Later

You see her, walking down the street.
Mumbling to herself, pushing the shopping cart
Wild, dirty hair; yellow fingernails, missing teeth

You don't want to look at her because you are afraid
Of the truth and the sadness behind her eyes
You don't want to take the time to ask
Because you are afraid that her truth might be yours

Years and years from now. Broken promises and regrets.
False truths you believed in. Caved in; torn to pieces;
Pieces of you, pieces of her. You don't know which is which.

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