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Leaving

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Packed her bags, walked away

She could not understand

Caution to the wind, come what may

In a foreign land

Claims of culture

Second to high finesse

I’m in your servitude

Your eyes see so much less

Fear runs rampant

Tremble to my touch

Soon an empty bed

Way of the world is such

I hope you find happiness

A way out of your hell

Courage is no fear

To you my friend I fare thee well

Alone I sit on my bed

Content to be free

Putting down some cryptic lines

Within finding me

Love is a funny thing

In the end its just a game

Sometimes it makes you sing out loud

But now its just a pain

Yet again with my pen

I sit and ponder the world

She is now a memory

No ill will do I hold

Mars Ascending

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