The Real Her

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They want to know the real her

But I don't know the person myself

We can start slow

Like waking up on a Saturday

By describing her as a light

She radiates life and brings warmth everywhere she goes

To know her is to love her

Yet even if you don't, you do

The real her has raccoon eyes

A result of many sleepless nights

Spent meticulously doing homework

Or working into the a.m.

You tell her she looks tired

And she just smiles

She knows, she's proud

Because there's nothing on this earth

More satisfying

Than reaping the fruit of hard labor

The real her is an avid reader, an adrenaline-junkie, a caffeine-lover

She spends her mornings sweating buckets

Afternoons wave watching

And evenings contemplating the state of the universe

Possibility entralls her

Like nighttime drives

Or capturing the perfect shot

Via film camera

There's nothing in the world that can stand in her way

She'll reduce you to bits with her charm and her wit

Running around you in circles

This girl makes it look easy

And the only advice she's had for herself:

Breathe

This poem is about: 
Me

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