Dropped down to the celestial tray in the clay,

Brought up through a vivid theme from a play,

Drowned into a suffocated sense of need,

Driven through a valley forcing the air as believe,

The spirit was left within an abstract of her dream.

She is the mother of existence that surrounded the sight,

Where the little soul was left to fight,

Only the essence know the reason behind,

Hidden in the common lies,

And someday the soul will cry,

And the mother will help her remember a broken tie,

The bond that revolved the stars to resonate the faith,

The bond that shall recall the mother to destroy the dream of need.

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