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On occasion, my chest will clench with anxiety,
And I'll fearfully wonder why you love me,
Then, you'll embrace me again; I'll accept that you do,
I'll pry open my clammed trust and let it be.
How could I have imagined your gentle soul harming me?
Behind my doubt is my illusion-prone mind.
My love has been wrung out by my previous aches.
I re-entered the world, not knowing what I'd find.
Inside my subconscious, where you do me wrong,
I observe dreams painted with betrayal.
So, tell me I'm silly, dry my tears,
And shun my mind's portrayal.