Let me hold my hands up high,
all the way,
as if I could grab the clarions and call them my own,
This was my day,
this is my day,
the day that I would start talking about today,
the day I would comfortably blur out the blots of yesterday,
not blind myself by the wild expectations of an uncharted frontier,
not chain myself to my silent traumas,
But hold my hands up very, very high,
all the way,
as if they belonged to me and only me,
because they did,
they do,
they are mine,
after all,
all mine---
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