For if I could just wipe out the frowns you carry,
burdens of the past that never let your happiness marry,
selfish maybe deemed unjust but the true oneself,
it was called love, clinging to the many masks on your shelf.
Deranged and then arranged are the memories that stay,
shuffling in-between times you become your own prey,
sheets beneath the tears and the ears lend to the many years,
deemed untrue to the standing tides waiting for answers.
Stepping on the blunt ends of the unknown winds,
blinded and soaked in the thoughts of the revival,
stored in between the faint smiles building for your own arrival,
blow away the thoughts with a new start.
Cradling a way out to the point of no return,
storming into the clouds unannounced with no discern,
cliched and rounded the cup was beginning to fill,
she started her fast-paced climb up that hill
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