There Is A ChildWho Sits And BroodsOver Her Inability To AgeTingling With The NeedTo Run Her Shaking FingersOver The HandsOf The Boy Beside Her.There Is A ChildWho Sits And StaresOut The WindowTowards The OceanBecause Dreaming Is The MethodShe Must UseTo Save A Smile.There Is A ChildWho Sits And WeepsOver Innocence ForgottenAnd Experience NeglectedWith The Rising TideAnd Crashing Waves.There Is A ChildWho Will Lay DownBeneath A ShroudTo Be AbandonedAnd No Mother Will Dare MournIn The Wake Of Her New Day.
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