depths of commotion

I've come too far to look back with the results of only falling apart.
My person has become weary of everything that has breezed through my life and that have left scars seen by the mental eye.
The woman I watched from my inside, has managed to fall from the palms that held her close to their demands.
She no longer is an admired lady of the town she thought she held by strings.
But she has become the talk among her opposites, she flaunts what they've all seen and were allowed a short glimpse.
As the day greets the dark she let's her mind become chaos once more. And in her soul, turmoil runs end to end calling out to her mind who is drowning in words that creates nothing close to sense but yet accommodates her irrifutable distress presently in her person.
And with her hand stretched out to her own reflection for help she holds onto fear's finger tips for the last time and allows him to stop her from calling out to the ears she thought would listen. And somehow he may be right for doing so. For in turn my questions asked will never be answered by a heart

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