The Cleansing
The many moulding, stifling cobwebs in my mind
Woven with glitzy threads of cynicism
Waiting to entrap every hovering dream
Sucking out hope- slowly rendering me an empty shell.
Oh, tall trees with your upright branches strong
Will you help me brush out the old webs,
That the nourishing rays of trust
The soft breeze of innocence
The sweet fragrance of labour
Might play again in the deep recesses of my mind?
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