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Aug 2017
The tides of fate are shifting,
the right is wronged,
and the wronged right.
Yet here I stand,
with an empty satchel,
Wandering the streets of fate.
That they hold something,
prizes that once were lost,
or just a hint.
Hope at least, that I might find.
Find which has been lost,
and claim it mine.
Yet here I sit, with a broken mind,
and a lost soul, searching for purpose.
Here I sit world, give me what you owe,
for I can search no more.
The hope that once was,
is no more.
The life that I hosted is no more;
I have lost all meaning,
Yet I sense, not despair, nor sadness,
indifference is it?
Perhaps that is my curse.
Observer the plethora of emotions,
observe all that I am missing.
Yet I keep wandering,
That one day I might find meaning,
Is this my curse?
Do tell me world,
that I might what what im looking for.
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