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Click hereShe grew up in a falsely beautiful paradise
She was encompassed by fragile glass walls
Constantly being told her actions and
shortcomings would shatter them
Never being told that it was all an illusion
All the fancy facades were for naught
The heartaches and tears only surfaced at night
when the lights were out and she thought no one saw
All the while the demons waited
With their weapons full of blood and terror
To smash through the walls and pull her free of the lie
It wasn't until that day,
when her vision cleared from the illusion
That the demons she used to fear
began to shrink from her newly realized power
And the shadows no longer made her afraid
It was then, that she acknowledged her beauty
A beauty defined outside of her glass box
A beauty all her own
And then, she truly began to live.
This is that trap into which we all that write have fallen. It's too Close to real, and suffers for it. At this stage in your subs here that's a bit hard to forgive. Still think title Growing Up. And sadly some have faced a bolted or fear locked room door from walking to adolescence. Potty training insanity. Still a clever teenage read, to inspire common belonging where needed. And sometimes I feel such Art deserves a Churchill like public orate thanks. Like never have so many by so few, touches that save lifes. Literally. Sorry if thats too heavy, a truth.