Everyone laughed at the dreamer her whole life through
They screamed and stoned her with jagged rocks
Their swords of sharp silver 
Penetrating age-old Armour
When removed she stands alone 
She is the dream
She is the love
She is the art
She is the dove
Huddled in the corner hiding
Cold cement room
Protecting the last of her precious gems
While rocks and swords still lume
Her last defense is beating
Like a worn and tattered drum
The shielded heart keeps on believing
That visions paint the sun…

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