With blackened eyes and beaten soul do we look on our fate;
Quite possible the chance may be that it’s been a mistake.
But even still, the spirit yearns for something it can’t grasp,
That it may break the fettered chains and may be free at last.
Trying to break a mold made tight with everlasting shame;
Whose constrains have broken, beaten; thoughts struggle, ever lame.
Never to live the life that lurks inside the lusting mind;
A life open to joy and pain, to instincts that entwine
with the base of our being, yet we cannot show this side--
Like ivy climbing towards the sun to be removed in time.
So now do we put on faces that will never be thine,
and go out to this world we know and leave our dreams behind.
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