waiting
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Waiting for the right moment,
she is a child at the curb
waiting for the light to change
for her to go forth,
finding an answer with no hand to hold.
Lonely and forsaken
she wishes for a hand to guide her,
red tears sliding dorn her face
tired from all the ones she cried before.
And her heart,
sunken in from daggers of anger
the same ones she knows so well,
no longer beats for the light of day.
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