Sorrow's the whisper
Though screaming thy bliss,
A mask is life's bearer
Appalling is this.
Untruth be the living
Through eyes not your own
Until your real self
One day, you've outgrown.
When asked a question
"How deep are your roots?"
Your sight back away
And stare at your boots.
Then you see then shallow
And bent the wrong way
Formed from your decision
To live other's lives that day.
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