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She Longs To Be Free

She paints a life in soft-spun gold,   A dream where love won’t lose its hold.   She speaks of mornings, hand in hand,   Of simple joys, a life well-planned.   She whispers of a quiet home,   Of love that never needs to roam.   She swears that all she wants is me,   But I can see—she longs to be free.   Her eyes drift past the life she draws,   A longing laced between her pause.   She craves the world beyond our door,   Yet tells herself she wants no more.   No walls can hold a restless heart,   No love can make her torn soul part.   She wants this life—she swears it's true,   But deep inside, she’s passing through.
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Success, you say, is found in wealth,  
In coins that bring a choice’s stealth.  
Options bloom where money grows,  
Without it, life feels stuck and closed.  

Not for fame or gilded pride,  
But for the doors it throws open wide.  
To turn the key, to walk the way,  
To seize the dawn of a brighter day.  

Platitudes fail, clichés fall flat,  
"You’ll rise again"—you've heard all that.  
What matters now is action's spark,  
A step, however small, in the dark.  

Track the numbers, face the tide,  
Speak to strangers, push fear aside.  
For freedom isn’t bound by gold,  
It’s built by courage, strong and bold.  

Each small act, a brick laid down,  
Toward the life where you wear the crown.  
The journey's yours, and though it’s slow,  
With steady hands, your future will grow.

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