dreams are but a reflection, prayers but a dream.
in this time of new directions and new seasons,
will you and i have a real reason?
silently the clocks tick away, our youth no longer guaranteed.
but i ask you a question, this is more than mere expression,
i want a confession, a confession from you to me.
"why do you ask? why do you seek?" said she,
"this confession will may never come from me,
so why can't you let me be? begone! speak not to me."
the chamber doors open and soundlessly i leave,
but she knows not how much she means to me.
in the end, it is these dreams that cause me to weep.
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