Let Her be Born

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My violin, my dearest friend, my sweet lover.

You who help me express my joy and heal my wounds.

My heart hurts –hurt most by the one I thought would never hurt me at all.

I'm bleeding- it's bleeding me dry.

I can't see the wounds – I can't find them to nurse and bandage them.

But this pain, though unseen, is more than I have ever felt before.

My soul hurts.

She who was caged, she who I let free,

She who I thought was stronger than any woman could be.

She is broken, once again caged.

Lost; somewhere hidden inside a wounded soul – my wounded soul.

My dearest, my love,

You who has never lied or ever been anything but true,

We searched this soul once before and found someone beautiful, someone strong,

Someone with a heart that burned and loved like no other – we found a legend.

I come to you once again,

Dreams shattered, soul scattered,

And into you I pour my wounded soul,

I ask you to help me search once more.

Let she who was lost be found and born a new.

Let her be born and handled warmly.

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