leaving behind your laughing eyes
and comforting words of hope.
Do the ends justify the means?
Does the gardener really have to
prune so the plant will grow?
I hear your accusing voice
and still, despite my sorrows,
I will not go back.
Perhaps you only see your pain,
but I see an entire painting
and have faith in its completion.
My wings unfurl and I fly
far above it all, to understand,
but one day I will return home.
So perhaps this is not the end,
but the start of something new.
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