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What "lies" Inside
She wrote herself in dreams Those longings of her heart The woman she envisioned Was one she wrote in art. The room was very quiet She inscribed her many needs Please see me as worthy Unique with noble deeds. The prince was her illusion But loving could not be She wrote him in her story In ways of fantasy. She created each new story He was her true tale A love so exquisite Her knight would not fail. This vision just a bubble Enchanting as can be It would not be real Much later she did see. One day the bubble burst As she was lain bare The touch she had craved Became overt despair. She put away the poem As well as all her dreams Finding truth that hurts Hearing only screams. She tried to numb the shame Convinced it was her fault Denyied that it happened The rapes and the assault. Determined and decided She refused to give up Self worth and esteem Filled up her empty cup.
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