Fear of the future

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At thirteen my heart had never been broken I was still dreaming big dreams And I was still outspoken I sided with hope having no concept of doubt
The figures of stone watch over us with vigilance. The songbirds sing our praises in their molto vivace. The wildflowers form a carpet underneath our feet.
It is midnight again and I don’t know how to last another minute. I crush my head between my hands and try to squeeze them out, Should I call them nightmares? Should I call them dreams?
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