She who always saw
life out of her grasp
Could always dream tomorrow
the happiness she'd clasp.
Someday she'd not be broken
Someday she'd shed her skin
Someday she'd write the lyrics
the question was just.. When?
Juxtapose to dreaming
Hope it held her hand
until the light was dying
now all alone she stands.
There is no complacency
and her broken soul it grieves
most her living has been done
by pretend and make believe.
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