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The simple truth lies hidden under layers

Of winter clothes and weather beaten coats
Its stifled, suffocated, unrewarded
Its buried with our dreams and all our hopes
 
 
We fend it off with spears and broken arrows
But still it never moves, it never shakes
We claim it for our own, but we know little
Of the simple truth that mournes as each day breaks
 
 
It shines beneath the litter poured upon it
Sometimes its light is dimmed and barely seen
But the simple truth is fixed and no persuasion
Will ever reconstruct or intervene
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