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The only thing
that ever died
was her Happiness.
Her Pain never did,
never does
It just faked
and fakes its death
and grieved
and grieves
in shallow graves
that lay as scars
rising on the far
landscapes of her heart
where a lonely Why
wanders and
trips over them,
forever falling
through the echoes
of its scream
that no Answer
can calm
with its Truth
to painful
to ever
accept.