might have been better than this cobbled-together one, but this one's here--which might make the lost one burn brighter in my head, but this is here and that one isn't.
"What's wrong with her?"
Can't quite say nothing, though I wish I could have.
It was once enough to boldly go where everyone
has gone before.
Bringing my own broken crayon
to make my mark in whatever color.
But I don't stand out anymore.
Yearning for a wider canvas
Imagining love at a hypothetical table
In a house I might never have had.
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