Maybe She Was The World
Maybe she was the world
Caught gracefully in the nets
That once caught everything beautiful
Before her
Maybe she had nothing
She had gold and emeralds
But they were not valuable
Maybe she's not real
Had it not been for for ink tracing lines and curves
And a mind for giving her a soul
Or a place to start
Maybe she's one of us
All of us, reflecting like mirrors as we pass by
Unaware of our steps
And careless of our paths
Maybe she's gone
Faded so gently into the chilled November air
As we start to walk again
Not knowing that we're already gone, too
Maybe we've all faded
Frail, sick, untamed creatures that ache inside
As if we all had no flesh, no bones
No real life outside of wrinkled pages and forgotten books
Maybe we're free
Like she was as the torn page slipped lightly into the wind
As it danced above our sleepy heads
Living our dreams for us
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