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Sep 2016
We drink, we lie and we sleep.
In our best moments we sit and we think and we weep.

Pointlessly or aimlessly, we yet have to decide,
to divide.

And we choose and we pick and our decisions stick
with us.
The smoke will never return to its cigarette
and in failure we'll always seem to regret
the choice we made.
Be proud you made it to the urn
Daan
Written by
Daan  Belgium
(Belgium)   
322
   PoetryJournal
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