Memoir
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Perchance I thought, or just a faded whisper
That you may dream of sheer contentment
The simple things seem so lost
Between the words when someone did you wrong
And it must be cold there
It glistens with the mist of that mistrust
And love's the ancient way
Deigned of all things pure except in you
And are you ever lonely?
Ever feel the efforts go unsung?
Perchance the dream has died
Awaken to the world he filled with lies
Are you ever lonely?