Tuesday

Mistaken Identities

I watched him declare everything, but heard him say nothing.
Was he speaking to me?
Or was it to her…the one who is always a little more prominent; is able to express herself,
Yet is always mistaken for me.
How do I know?

Shards of light pierce through my painted skin
Their infrequency makes them blinding.
Is it illuminating enough for them to see?

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