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Rising High

Rising High

Every building has a story to tell, every window has a face to share.

It’s just my perspective that matter.

Sometimes it’s a mother, with those wet clothes,

Or it’s the dad with some ashes to throw.

Sometimes it’s cradle with a warm smile

Or it’s a girl with those damp eyes.

Look closely and I see the story clear

The story of her heart, that is again broken and tear.

She trys to hold tight, trying to forget what just went inside.

Telling herself to calm down, because it’s just day 1 and 364 days still undercount.

Let’s not get deep, and let her be on her own. 

Because when I turned the mirror said, babe, it’s only you.


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