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Silhouettes

by on May 8, 2013

Not all are what they claim to be
Modesty seems like an imperfect notion
Our thoughts, they try to break free
They are barely heard in our own commotion

We all seek ways to run
To be those who we are not
We should revel in actions, yet –
We obsess over our thoughts

We walk a faded path
We try not to care
Enchained in a prison
Of our inability to dare

Opaque and blindsided
Our purpose is astray
All that’s left of our lives
Are silhouettes damned and grey

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