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Looking Back

Blowing on dandelions,
I've wished for the darkness to
leave my hurting heart.

I've looked at birds,
wished I too could fly away
from where I was at.

Trained in the art of
plastering fake smiles on,
I withdrew inside.

What I would give to
embrace my former self,
let her cry on me,
and full of future knowledge
tell her it will be okay.





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