each year contains its own mirror. some are cracked chipped and broken. some of, not easily spoken. memories of being torn down, fallen down, let down. but i know, on top i stand my king and i hand in hand. the new year awaits an empty canvas to paint. i hope and pray for vibrant colors so grand, though i know there will be moments i can hardly stand. Ill want to give up and give in, the enemy is mistaken if he thinks he will win. and so another mirror is soon on its way, each piece formed day by day.
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