Outside, a cave of disillusion,
A spirit yearning to share,
A piece of itself no one has ever known
The owner cannot explain
The depths of it’s creation
The place where it is bred,
A magical place,
With white horses and castles
And flowers made of pastels
To this place so sacred,
I want to show you me,
But I cannot get through the thorns
That keep you from within my grasp
Still under a spell of longing for something more.
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