Irony

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It’s kind of ironic how when times get hard
A young maiden of hope seems to ask
“Who can I run to?”
Life is a simple representation
Of the allegation that the sensation
Of love is an obligation
Love hard
Laugh like gorgeous music
She screams for her inner soul to sing softly
Deep beautiful music that aches soulfully in her veins
It’s ironic because now memoirs of the past
Swiftly drift past her thoughts
Times are never too bad with love to ease the pain
Soothing the soul like the blues
Her life is labeled to be continued
She doesn’t know where her soul lies
Yet who does?
So she dances the hurt away
For everyone knows that pain suppresses pain
The agony that pressures her toes
Suffocating her in pain until she is a ornament of perfection
Is inexistent to the ache in her heart that no pill or medicine or ice bath can relieve
So she sings her stress away
Yet the fickle intonation of her sing- song voice
Relapses her career and brings all of her troubles casting down upon her
So she runs her fears away
She leaves every nameless worry biting the dust
Her feet barely touches the ground
So her aura is that of a fallen angel
Her tears hit the solid ground
As she slips and fights her way through the dirt and bitter mud
Her life is breaking away
Piece by piece
Little by little
Tear by tear
So she finally stops running
For everyone knows
That it is impossible to overcome your fears if you don’t face them
So she simply turns around
And ironically
Right on her heels
Is what she was waiting for all along





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