Joyful countenance shown as such a stone's
And crafted to be masked
Not so bland and lifeless
More so stoic and hidden
Even in blasphemy
One can repent to oneself, if not to another,
An outside if you will,
But nothing is ever forgotten
Class is such an ugly word
So selective, and cold,
Nevertheless, left at the bottom, I rot
Decay and age drives them all away
"Time heals all wounds",
Lies,
It has been decades
And I'm still bleeding
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