The latent lies that reach no beginning
To calm the morrow of a patient past
Brings upon a being of virtuous sort
That only shows a shivering tale
Through the gracious redemer that cries a flaw
For he who falls, confused of its maker
Lying there remembering above
Which he ascends when the balance returns
Alas in the present is realities home
He thinks in the eyes of the future
Holding on to a sliver of hope
For the better ignoring his misery
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