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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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My future holds a bright tower of dreams.

Gleaming bright in the golden light of day.

Shining in the muted glow of the moon.

A fragile tower made of spun glass and light.

 

The tower lies shattered.

Darkness blights where once brightness ruled.

Ruined plans, built on an unstable foundation of hope.

Destroyed in an instant by the actions of others.

 

A single bead remains, brightly shining.

Lying in a nest of shards.

Insulated by my long suffering hope.

Waiting for the new year to pass so the dreams can be born again.

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