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July 9, 2016

 

The weak become weary

My strength is not near me
Cold I have become
My strength has succumbed
I search for a palace to wash my cold weathered hand
Is being lost my only given plan
I kiss the ground below my broken feet
My life is a sound
A streaming, strumming, drumming beat
And every breath, I know
Is my only given treat
Why does being alone make me so lost
Why is every road just another cross
Do I go this way or that
I do not know
But forward I must continue
Onward I must go


 

 

 

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