reflection II

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“Ah, but you'll find your way” is what they always told me
In bleak, cold times when there was no one to hold me,
Grandma kicked the bucket and so did dad and mum—
And I've had no choice in life but to run, run and run

“Lord tell me, what's the purpose?” is all I always asked
When all the love and hope was cut off by life's axe,
The circle became an arc and people moved away—
So I sat down with my shadow and made peace with my dismay

“When does it all end?” is what I ask now,
Staring at the ceiling with indifference to it all,
I could let it go and sink into the fall—
But what good would it do if my purple turned to black?

And so as I fall asleep and my mind takes it's leave,
I whisper to myself, “live, live.”

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