I was asked to be a lot of things in this life,
to fill many shoes left behind by someone else's Cinderella,
to sweep up the remnants of deaths I did not cause,
People believed in me,
I believed in me,
until I recalled my allegiance to amnesia when it came to you,
You broke me,
first into pieces,
and then when you tried to put me back together,
I asked you to leave me be,
This was,
in fact,
me,
disheveled,
but on the mend,
Unclouded by the fleeting perks of nostalgia,
grateful for my concussion,
aided and abetted by nothing,
save for this epiphany of sorts
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