Wrinkles

 

I look at my wrinkled face.

A face that once smiled is now reflected in him.

My smile that hid the laughter, which once delighted my soul.

And here was all my happiness.

The marks left by my wrinkles are my own roads.

The few, which were my hardest roads.

A few paths lead to my heart.

There in the alleys, I waited with thousands of moments of concern.

I lived then moments when my tears flowed with longing, pain, loneliness, and, at the very least, happiness.

Near those alleys are roads that stop instantly because they have nowhere to continue.

There remained the renunciations of my dreams.

How much pride was broken.

How many fears.

How many gifts.

How many aspirations.

And as many sacrifices.

And I have gathered many such alleys in my soul in a lifetime.

Everything is now reflected in the mirror on my face.

With ups and downs.

With good days and bad days.

With joys and sorrows.

They now show me all the beauty and sensitivity of my soul.

As much as I managed to gather.

In my life.

 

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