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About This Poem
They Dry On Their Own
Within the quiet of the night,
amid the shadows of my pain,
the strength I held so fast to,
ebbs, as another tear does gain.
With out the giving of consent,
it brings forth a fellow traveler.
To follow a chaotic coarse,
across my cheeks, twilight pallor.
Bare of conscience thought, I brush aside,
the meaning each holds alone.
I hide behind my false bravado,
as my tears dry on their own.
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