Life, is gouging out holes in me I dont know how to fill
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Cavenous expanses, where life force used to rage
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each piece of me carved away by the hands of time at the whim of fate.
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I claw on more determined to live the life I want with the things I no longer need tied behind me where sentiment flails
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weighted down by a useless comfort steming from a need in some obscure part of me I hardly recognise
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while still, daring to dream the possibility of discovering the meaning of my existence or life, or even. the enigma of love in the conumdrum living Or perhaps, so desperately the unsolvable longing in my soul.