the morning windows of my mind

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the morning windows of my mind
do not let in the light;
the colors that i choose to show
are symbols of my flight

for as the past makes prisoners
of all who towards her face;
so i, amidst my colored dim,
am firmly here in place

i hear you, friend, though, all your words,
and try to count the cost
of what it took for you to get
to where-you-are from lost

and celebrate your family,
the tears and grace you share;
and stretch the limits of my heart
but find myself still where

the stillness and the madness mix.
it’s all that i can do;
the morning windows of my mind
they will not let me
through

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