
A shirt fresh and new,
now worn but still blue.
The color, faded,
and the style, dated.
The perpetrator, Time,
committing a habitual crime.
I will still be
but not the same me.
I still have my name
but I’m not the same.
And my shirt still fits,
even with all the rips.
We are different
and we are the same.
And I don’t ….
Can nothing stay?
Does it all go away…
Was I never me?
Am I always who I am meant to be?
I don’t know anymore.
Is this fate,
am I just bait?
I don’t know anymore.

©2021 Jai Lynn
Beautifully written ❤️
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Thanks so much!! ❤
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You are most welcome ❤️
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Oh this made me think! Especially when you accussed time of committing a crime ;P
It really made me think how the passing of time changes us but it doesn’t necessarily make us a different person? We may react differently to situations or make different decisions which does mean we’re different to a past version of ourselves but we’re still the same too. I don’t know what I’m trying to say haha but yeah nice food for thought you’ve given me…
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I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂
Yeah it lends itself to a lot of interpretations! Thank you for reading Kiya! ❤
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