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Into my dreams do I descend,
Into this entity on which I depend
I see, within, a fiery self
Upon what was naught but a lonely shelf
The self I see, both strong and alive,
Needs nothing but herself to survive
She has no need for those others who
Might deem to decide what she shall do.

But this me, I know, is illusion at best-
I can be strong- not necessarily the rest.
I do many things which are determined by another.
Some don’t want peoples’ attention- don’t like to bother
I find I need help, and, sometimes, direction
And needing another goes without question.

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