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It is Sunday morning, she weeps at church.
Not a one realizes the destruction, the hurt.
No need to repress, the wells have dried.
Not one can fathom these tears she’s cried.

They are countless, the seas have overflowed.
She cannot quiver this pain no matter where she goes.
She needs to run, to ascend to the sky.
Even there, she knows, she has no where to hide.

She seeks seclusion, the side of the dark moon.
She feels withering; her flower, it no longer blooms.
She just needs to remember when her world goes bad,
He’s the best brother, father, friend that she’s ever had.

Stephanie is beautiful this time of year,
but she only hears what she wants to hear.
Tell her that she is magnificent and wonderful,
she blesses anyone no matter where she goes.

Seasons go forth, seasons relent, she has seen them all.
New life is coming, but with her everything falls.
The glorious twinkle, God’s precious child.
That through her fallings, we still find Stephanie’s smile.

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