This fracture has
painted our
colors in reverse.
white over black;
black over white.
Roses and bloom in a
time well past,
shadows and gloom in a
choiceless fluke.
Harsh words that
penetrate my, I reluctantly
admit,
selfish alacrity.
Paint dries, yet
beneath lies
buried marks; scars
that sometimes
unhinge our shallow
facades until it
peels, and
visible is that
white underneath black;
black underneath white.
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