Lies in my youth that make me suspect that it’s true,
someone to trust, someone to believe, someone to put all my hopes and fears in.
I found figures in my thoughts, something they were not, that I believed I could tell myself to stop doubting myself, to bring me up when I was down, where I could feel safe in this world knowing they’d be there, someone for my mind to care.
Eventually it all comes down, the curtain and the crowd, that entertained my thoughts I thought so proud, perhaps it’s for the best, to leave this mess of broken shards of dreams I once held, that fake figure of a stained glass saint.
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