And so I bring my pen Once more To poetry's door, Ever seeking The secrets Of my soul. That soul Is wounded now Bruised and Battered worse Than I ever Imagined Would be My fate. I was The Lucky One (So I thought), The one Who escaped Ill health, Who would Succeed in Love, At work, In whatever I chose to do. Life just smiled, Waited patiently. Time is always On Life's side. A day, an hour, A week Whole years go by: Life doesn't care. Life knows Time is always On its side, Not mine. And so... More lies behind Than before. Yet less Lies behind Than I desired. Whose fault Is that? I wish I could say Some other name, But only mine Echoes down The empty paths I've trod. Only mine.
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