The tattered rag covered my unfulfilled void of a heart
The overwhelming emptiness leaving me desolated
Not a star shinned in the all encompassing sky
As the quintessential tears of my proverbial lose descended
Through stoic eyes I gazed at the callous world
Watching it go through the capricious vicissitudes of this age
The archaic time of mirth and glee forever lost
To our yearnings of hedonistic lust















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I refuse to be any less than myself. I will not be more than myself. I will simply be me, and at the end of the day, that is the best I can hope for.
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