she lives a life of solitude
which she thinks is gratitude
unuttered she spends her days
counting nothing but her pains....
people call her jubilant
they think she is exultant
indepth no one knows
how much she stays anonymous....
she loves to sacrifice
accepting it as solace
nothing but the truth
she longs for the bloom of youth...
people trust she is simple
but unaware they are of her wimple
inaudible remains the roars inside
smiling at anyone who stands beside.....
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My heart bleeds again…
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