It's a kind of aching beauty to see
The walking wounded
The weight of another's heart being solid
In one hand
Indomitable spirit holding tight against
Word lashes, ripping souls apart
Fearing what's said, cannot
Be unsaid
One shouldn't guess if the heart
Will win
Who can spare the time to spend
On another wish
Wasted on a dream, a short suffering
In the scheme of things
Like a mirror bent, about to break
Shattering on our souls
A solid weight
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