Hard as it can be, irrelevant as it may seem,

my filth lured my innocence.

In a pitch-black ribbed cave,

adulthood lurked in the aloof abyss.

I stood on a cliff, my limbs wavered;

but the desires to clinch on adulthood

urged me to leap.

An endless fall followed.

As the image of tranquillity faded in the distance,

I realised:

what was once a dream,

that is, to grow,

became a haunting nightmare.

It was a leap of deceit,

for I was once a dove,

only to turn into a featherless raven.

 

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