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What i am is seen as wrong
headlong i run along knowing, or trying to know who i am
i fly along, trying to get a grip on the person in my reflection
only to see broken shards with a distorted refraction
translucent, transparent i tend to be
marvelously inadequate at the seams
silent plea left unanswered, for i cannot cry
i cannot weep for my owns heart's sake
may she whom i may become be stronger than i
unashamed of whom i stand to be
may she not cower at pray for ignorance of her family
let her walk along in the meadow of yonder,
underneath the clouds and dazzling colours.