Masking things.

May 17, 2011
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Drag out your soul,
From under your bed,
Clean off the dust,
The tears that were shed.

Fill in the scratches,
Cover the holes,
Make it look decent,
So nobody knows.

That you've endured storms,
Your personal hell,
Storms like no other,
You souls there to tell.

So clean off the dust,
The tears that were shed,
And if it doesn't work out...
There's room under the bed.

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