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When I cry
it is not me, not myself.
These are tears of a younger heart,
Salty traitors dampen the cheek
to betray the façade.
They belong to the girl I once was
or almost became.

She weeps,
it is all she knows to do
her only expression,
her only answer.
The tears she cries
fall from yesterday.
She weeps for me
and I for her.

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