As a young poet I was told
Write things of a tender heart
Write of blue skies high above
Write of bluebirds sweetly singing
...
Illusions, every one of them, everything she's come to know
Her whole world crumbles before her, disappearing colorful vapors
Leaving only shades of gray desolation and destruction
As if a dream were being transformed into an unfathomable nightmare
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I am who I am; I will not bend nor change in a manner
Swaying with the direction of the wind to suit another
Having learned from my past, from my mistakes
I intend to remain true to myself
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Ribbons and bows all pretty and pink
Fairy tales teach little girls not to think
Wait for Prince Charming riding to the rescue
Isn't it alarming how quickly we believe?
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Affairs of the heart concerning that of great wondrous love
Perhaps are not meant for me
Alas, some in this world are meant not to fall folly
To such perils concerning the heart
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So many things are said about a smile
A smile is worth a million words
A smile can launch a thousand ships
Did I ever possess such a smile? For I dare say
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It lay dormant within her quietly waiting
Like a storm brewing on the horizon
Being conjured up by angels or by demons
Haunting her very essence
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When a wounded heart is set free
Doth it bring sorrow or joy?
Sorrow for what cometh to an end
Or joy for what the future holds
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Oh how the mind attempts to protect the heart, protect the soul
Veiling the unbearable truth in mist, fog, cloudiness
Alas, what lay in the past could not be accepted or sorted through
Without woeful companionship of insanity
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She reaches out her hand into the mist
Reaches out into emptiness where nobody exists
The one she thought you were has never been
Just a shadow lingering until the break of dawn
...