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Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.

Awake! arise! the athlete’s arm
Loses its strength by too much rest;
The fallow land, the untilled farm
Produces only weeds at best.
Realyn Garnica Aug 2020
When you're reading this,
I'm miles away
To the foreign land,
I embark my journey
With naught but hope
and liberty,  I'm gay
With courage and strength
I'm finally carefree

— The End —