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Silent Thunder Calling me at attention, to sit up straight in your hardwood world of sensibility. Older now, I am not your tiny soldier; no seamless reprimands to endure. Remembering, alonside you, I, invisible in my blue church dress, wore perfectly painted smiles. Cleverly disguised in cardboard cutout manners, I am longing for the fleeting favor of easiness in your eyes, only to feel their red blow of harsh disapproval. Even now, your ghost draws its black shade over my heart, Slowly smothering that radiant enemy within. Today, as I look out over a clear horizon, I still hear your silent thunder. |
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