A waterfall of empty tears is rushing down my stinging cheek. A careless slap restored my fears; my strengthened soul now wanders weak. In shadows of restraint I weep, imploring freedom's might to guide, but apprehension's knife cuts deep; amidst seclusion's warmth I'll hide. The ebony flow of ink will bleed in pools of inspirations lost, as hands of silence choke the seed; my dreams and aspirations tossed. Behind a wall of doubt I'll stand until my self-esteem renews, then passion's pen will guide my hand erasing shades of black and blues.
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