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Into my dreams do I descend, Into this entity on which I depend I see, within, a fiery self Upon what was naught but a lonely shelf The self I see, both strong and alive, Needs nothing but herself to survive She has no need for those others who Might deem to decide what she shall do. But this me, I know, is illusion at best- I can be strong- not necessarily the rest. I do many things which are determined by another. Some don’t want peoples’ attention- don’t like to bother I find I need help, and, sometimes, direction And needing another goes without question.