Still struggling with the fact that
the fight is yet to end.
Everyday passing by,
with the hope,
of holding back the joy, will come to an end.
I might not be fit for the frame you made
but there are limitations for me to pave the way.
Although small,
I always make the move,
just to recognise the picture of mine in you.
Still struggling with the fact
that I'm not in the world made by you.
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