In the Midnight Hour

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All I see is a caged thought and shackled freedom
A dream twice up and thrice down;
A spirit with broken wings
Steps never taken, but perceived throughout.
A vision clear enough to let in space for deceit
Words, so many, wrongly placed to bleed.
Disguise revered and faith quelled
Smother or be there Fire-
Without hope all's withheld.
A sight not as clear as reality, where
Expectations precede morality.
Rebuilding the shattered will,shaping the hill
Is to achieve sans wealth-
Succeed sans embracing guilt.
Timed until a world beyond this night,
There's a round more to this fight.

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