Poetry

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The hour of this day comes like a thief in the night. Calling out from deep within. Do you have what it takes to linger on? Frankly, my sails are down. The mast is broken. I have no drive nor the impetus to carry on. Of course, the people are my fuel for keeping that little flame of life going...

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My mind is boggled down

My chest feels wrapped too tight,

Just wanna curl up in a ball

Sure as hell don't wanna fight

I wanna lean back in my chair

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The hour has come
For thoughts foretold
Crimson red
Pent up gore
Fight in store

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today I died inside a corpus shell

the sound of my casket far from a burning hell

I got words to confess full in effect yet to not neglect

out of every circumstance learn to take part in the dance

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Here I go
Dry as hell
Nothing more
Yet to tell?
Maybe not.