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not the case, ace.

I didn't feel like going.

I didn't want to do anything, or hear anything from anyone about what they thought.

Jurys are just random selections of people

Judges are appointed, like my guardian angel

The courtyard had been calling.

With solemn columns

Surrounding grass that was...

greener yesterday.

She looked at me and said...

"I'm not going to ask you what you want me to ask you..."


"who did this to you?"

I do see the pain in your eyes dear. But that is the smallest part of what I see.

While the jury sees a shell of you

and wants to know and wants to know

Your lifeless frame and hollowed eyes...

what's the cause?

Such an unimportant detail.

I see a stirring

A mixing up of time and space and all that you experience

re-arranging you into the girl I know even better than yesterday.

You are not just a body with your knees up to your chest, arms tightly holding them.

I see everything that expands behind and in front of that

And that it folds like a blanket around you now

Telling you you're alright.

You're you.

You're safe to grow.

You've never been alone.

You'll never be alone.

You've never been bad.

You've always been wrong

But you're feel all that you feel.

You're okay, and it's safe to sigh.

It's safe to say goodbye.

Your tender field of clovers has turned into quite a thoroughfare

You can abandon the field altogether if you want

It's been trampled.

That we know.

Or you could keep the open sign on.

The walkway itself is very stunning and scenic

Though paved aggressively and painfully,

It's you

And you've still got things to do.

And clovers still abound

to the right and to the left of you.

Forget the trodden leaves behind you,

Or the emptiness before you

Remember what's beside you

Always green

Always enough

Always, always you.

So... "who did this to you?"


Be thankful, be proud and proceed.

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