My soul is writhing
It bleeds in pain
And here I am writing
Old words again
How many times
Shall I repeat these things
How many times
Till the Muses won’t sing
How many times
On the same old sting
I bore myself but it’s all I will
So I’ll waste my ink and wear my quill

As birds fly by I want to cry
Too tired, I settle for a sigh
And ask the gods oh why oh why
Why is man such a wreck
Why is change so painful
If we are just spots on a speck
It’s all so unnecessary, wasteful

Poems, poems flow and flow
As time will reap and sow
What is the point of trying
If all in the end is dying
Is the goal of it all
Before death makes his call
To steal as much joy
In clever little ploys
Why then don’t the happy
Just end before the crappy
Trap of life catches up?
They are seduced and blinded by luck

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