Lost
Into my home, you, I receive.
But the sparkling eyes and ragged clothes decieve.
I hear your story, and I believe.
Yet it is not the tongue of a preacher but that of a thieve.
My possessions and things I care not to retrieve,
But one lost to me, broken, restrained and not freed
When you left I could do naught but grieve,
For my heart is a soldier that will never be on leave.
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