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The White Washed Rainbow
You're a white washed rainbow
but they don't seem to know.
No one can set eyes
on those hues that seek abode in your soul.
They acknowledge your brawls
and question your unwillingness.
They find the pathos in your story,
but never the mystique in your tale.
You seem like a labyrinth,
unwilling to cut down the uncanny twists and turns.
But you've always been a direct path,
the path to the treasures in your soul.
It seems like they've lost the way,
and so they complain
of you being hard to seek,
of you being hard to understand,
of you being YOU.
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Anyone who has faced the perils of disappointment will relate to this poem. In writing this poem I hope to put a stopper on the reader's pain. May the perils of mortal relm leave you alone.