Sunday, 24 May 2015

The crack, if it exists, isn’t visible,
Not to eyes, not to theirs’ anyway
They’ll umpire your armoire
And pounce on every little thing you say.
It’s not your fault, little love
It isn’t your fault at all.
You didn’t realize what you were in for
That a trench could be so deep a fall.
You walked into a room, let them see
You walked to the room, your head held strong
To play the part you’re supposed to be
Let all the others be wrong.

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