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From Morning’s Wake

What is the cause of my disdain?

More and more these days feel the same,

A weakened body, a tortured mind,

The burden I bear are those I find,

From ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

The cause of my actions are never just,

And though my flesh is beaten and torn,

An absence of existence is not one to mourn,

Through the night’s whim, bring no tomorrow,

To day morning comes, brings only sorrow,

For if I die before I wake,

I have no will, nor mind to break.





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