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For as long as I can remember, I have always felt so lost;

perhaps it's for the better - is being found worth the cost?

Having to accept that we are of a certain mold,

having to profess to being either meeker or more bold.

In the center - a happy medium - rationalizing soul;

staying inside, craving outside, too many fears to withhold.

Sober thoughts, thoughtful dreams, dream-like moments gone unseen;

who would've thought these thoughts and dreams actually belonged to me?

A smile tells some but it doesn't tell all, and the smile is what they see.

Beneath the upward sloping line, melancholy lies beneath.

Embedded deep with no explanation, perpetually penetrating.

I don't understand this phantom - but his presence is worth venerating.

To have kept his place all this time, deeply rooted to my spirit;

the lonely phantom in me wanders and weeps - sadness deep but I can hear it.

But this same sadness now feels like home,

I know I'm not alone because the phantom never goes,

quiet tears and longing give shape to my throne,

misunderstood isolation is the world that I know.

 

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