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A Beautiful Doom (Part 2)

I don’t remember how tall you are. But as I see both of our reflections over the black window the MRT, now I do. Your beauty is not something out of this world. When I first saw you, you looked like a regular man. A typical man that grew up from a typical boy that would always tease and mock his fat classmates. A typical man who idolizes big bike and would never want to be caught crying.

But, I admit, there is something admirable about you. It is small but big enough to create a lasting impression on me. It has been three years, but I am still thinking about you whenever I am lonely.

It could be your almond-shaped eyes and Asian-American nose? these features you luckily have even if you don’t come from a mixed-race heritage. It could be the scarred left eyebrow and tattoos that run from the pillow of your shoulders and down to your arms that makes you a menacing angel. But let me tell you, I am not in love with your striking red hair colour. But I like your poise and the fire within you…

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