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a r t CREATE DESIGN l i f e

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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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