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Jailbird
K. Eltinae |
She was brought against her will,
When she had beauty still,
And so many things now gone.
She built a raft with truths,
She couldn't leave behind,
And years later went blind,
With the hunger of never knowing.
All the things she had lost,
Were all cunningly designed,
To reappear one morning,
Like seaweed on a shore,
Things she couldn't use anymore.
All held hands like an omen,
Like a necklace on skin,
They all wanted back "in"
But "there wasn't any room for the past" she cried
Inside where all the beautiful things had died,
Remained the carcass of an anonymous song,
Captive to a departed regime to whom no one belonged.
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