"Hush, hush! Dear child,Your roommate's asleep,
You've shown enough already:That you, at night, shall weep.
"Why, dear child,Do you treat yourself so?
Is pain in your life?Is that all that you know.?"
"Your pain, your pain! It is painful to me,"
The tears fill my eyes,Heart bursting with empathy.
"I treat myself The way I think I should,"
Never minding the fact,That it's not very good.
"But why?" People ask me Their own hearts holding sorrow,
"Why not be Azanda?For both today and tomorrow?"
"Because!" I cry, "I don't know how to!
I don't know how she is!Or the things she would do!
"I can't be myself,If that's what you've wanted!
I've tried it before,But my spirit was daunted."
"Azanda!" they say,Do not be afraid!
Just look behind you,At the progress you've made!"
"There is no one like you!"They try to explain,
And I weep a little harder,Adding salt to the rain.
"Don't you understand,What I'm trying to say?
Trying to tell you?Attempting to convey?"
"Darling," they call me,With fear in their heart,
"Don't do this to yourself!Please don't take part!"
"In what?" I ask them,Dread in my mind,
"What do you speak of?I'm so far behind!"
With tears in their eyes,And an ache of the heart,
They look to the heavens,And wait for the start.
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