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Michelle

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since May 2013
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Transition

May 29, 2013
He looks in the mirror: buzzed hair, a flannel, baggy jeans over new black Vans. Turning to the side, he folds his arms over his chest, slouching forward. A pink blouse hits his head. “Try that, Carol,” Erica says. He looks back at the mirror: long locks, teal shorts, a necklace under a broken smile.
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