I swear, I once lived colorfully,
and it dried onto me.
And it dried into me.
It shows on me, that I'm not new.
I can't whitewash; it just shows through.
To black it out, to block it out,
Hides the designs but not the doubts,
and the first time I get wet,
Scrape, break or bend,
Flecks of my past show through again.
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