Poetry

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Prosaic mundanity of a changing time`s span bleary
With nestling nothingness encrouching my soul with bleak
Of elusive success distant from grasp like a star in the sky
Conceit in arrogant egoistic trait of impertinent snideful smirk.

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I shall succeed much to the dismay of loathsome peers
Surmounting to the surmit atopping the helm with suave finesse,
Galloping in full steed winning and not yet resting on my laurels
Creating a new watershed for success shining like a beacon on a shore.

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All my tomorrows are expunged with brittle essays
Valiant with endeavours petitioning fruition to come to the fold
With each rising morrow brooding new vain overtures
To sail this ship away from the torpedo seeking it`s own end.

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The line is not straight
For heavens sake!
Draw another
We are not late

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Plain and simple it may seem
Life is not simple
You will see
Things around me
Twirl and whirl
Like my insides
All a cream