Upon my sky with gentle grace,
I'm a monday's child,
supposedly fair of face.
Don't step upon my lion's mane,
or inset my emotionally distorted pain.
Do not cross the line I lie behind,
It is but mine and mine.
In a dream or reality pun,
lingering weary shadows hiding my sun.
Do not pity thee, I shall get by.
Just step over me,
leave me where I lie.
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