You're a cruel man, JRL. How dare you make me feel so strongly for a girl who isn't real!

There's only one thing I can say to this....

(ref: Brownfields, Greyfields)
Burn my eyes with acrid dust,
Shower my hair with grains of rust.
The deafening shock of hammered steel
Will cover the sobs from what I feel.

These mammoth hearths, these iron looms
Are like the world's industrial womb,
The mother of cities in distant lands.
This is no place for my impotent hands.

What use are you? What have you done?
No cities built! No trophies won!
I apologise. These hands are not to blame,
The fault is their possessor's shame.

That I have been afraid to try,
To spread my wings and dare to fly.
That timidness made me turn and flee,
From life's challenges and cruelty.

And so I began to fade away,
To lose my depth, and turn to grey.
Until I'll simple cease to be,
No fearful girl, no more... me.

So I beg you, though I've kept you ill,
My poor hands, please be my will.
I've created nothing for my name,
It's up to you to make my fame.

To build, to sculpt, to weave, to dance!
To chase that dream! To take that chance!
And while you work at that, could you.
Mend this frail girl, too?

Oh, and by the way, this is my 1,000th post.

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