Kicking my feet.
Shaking my head.
In that moment you know
you've "Made your bed."

See there, there by the door.

Painted glass?
Splintered, broken on the floor.

That isn't glass...
I've cleaned my room.
That there is the hope
I have cried for you.
I sweep it up only at night.
Underneath a full moons light.
That's when it all begains,
my faith restored once again...
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