she sang 2 me

she sings with the pure beauty of a slave.
at one point, i thought she took the anguish out of my hand.
her notes rise up hard and from a deep, blue grave,
climbing as though they are sure to never languish again.

her song encompasses the desires of all who've ever hurt.
all tears stop because of the joy released by her work.
it's that thing you want when alone, with no kisses, in the desert.

she smiles as she sings with scars freshly laid.
it is her bellow that lets me never put down my hope.
her octaves, so tight, so strong, they give shade
and, in spite of her sorrow, the darkness knows it won't cope.

her melodic cries are just for the love of all who are in pain.
freedom will stand before them as that thing they fought to justly obtain.
now the choice is between living the life and dying for the gain.

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