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A Morning like Every

To me, you and them...

When in the morning you’re alone,
You feel like crying.
Don’t hold it in, you’re by yourself,
And no one will see you slowly dying.
 
But when you leave your lonely house,
You have to seem enlightened.
As if for once your heart and soul,
Are opened up.
 
It might be false, it might be fake,
But acting is your living.
Because the scars of broken trust,
Are not at all forgiving.
 
But you don’t have to worry,
Because you know next morning,
You’ll be alone, you’ll be yourself,
And no one will judge you mourning.
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