When my voice is stilled
And my life a fading memory,
Let my words live to sketch the portrait
Of who I am
And what I loved
And the disappointments I hid beneath an iron will
Dreams discarded, grist for reality's mill,
Life's outlines shifting in quiet acquiescence
Rendering me as you knew me:
A facade only
Born of necessity, borne with silent yearnings
Another weary traveler through the labyrinth of life.

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