This War
A silent war wages inside me. It’s not a dream or an intellectual fantasy or a child’s stubborn desire.
Found
Found a little toy called heart, Found it broken, torn and ripped apart. Found it lying on the street, Trampled on by the hundreds of feet.
Under a Moonlit Sky
Under a moonlit sky, My lady sat and wept. While her world was in turmoil, Ours soundly slept. She sat and she cried While she thought of all the lies, Her face buried in her hands As tears streamed from her eyes.
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