The Restoration

The Restoration

I left my pain in Portland
Spilled it out on the colored carpet floor
Like a glass of wine I poured it out
Like a leather briefcase left on the Tram

I left my pain in Portland
Let those grave-clothes hit the floor
Let him rip it off like a prom dress
Threw it in a wrinkled pile at his feet

I left my pain in Portland
Unclenched my fists that gripped the shards
Felt the sweet breeze of freedom come and
Blow strongly across my face

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