I see but a darkened husk
Of beauty once bright and clear.
Disappearing by the dusk,
Screaming though none would hear.
It gives expecting no gratitude.
It ignores each dreadful attitude,
While slowly forming into one too.
Its only source of joy is her sight,
But in indifference it must hide
This joy it feels when at its height.
Struggling inside, it must set her aside.
For dreams to be fulfilled, it must discard
Its only joy; oh how life is hard!
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