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Let your tears flow down your cheeks and chin
They are pockets of sorrow and pain
You earned that right to let them rain
Once they dry, the healing will begin
And you will be saved
demands are everyday, simple things can be priceless, and while the  words pound, grind, oh make us cry, while the world is turning, there is  a small hope to always return home.
sbm.

— The End —