The shortest I would write today
A letter full of splendor
Reminding me of one’s identity
With an impact and inner applause,
Often stressed with simple words
Yet only those left unsaid speak most,
Hidden in one’s garden called treasure
To answer it is never within a day
But through a series of moments,
The stroke of your conclusions change like rain
Sometimes you are, sometimes you’re not.
So who is this “I” I’m talking about?
Was it suppose to be you,
Is it all who you want to be,
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