The cracks on these walls, May be hideous, Did you turn away?
But it’s these cracks, Traces of my past, Impressions of regrets, Testament to pain.
Like clues left behind, Like paintings on the wall, Like a circus from out of town. Gathering of freak folks. Have you come to watch the show?
But it’s these cracks, Through which I emerge, As the light seeps in, And the air, I breathe again.
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