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Woe is Me (a self pitying poem)

Drinking in winters  muted hues,
embracing November’s icy breeze
as it washes over me in waves
of spiritual cleansing.
My soul  reaches…

Yearns…

to be warmed by dawns awakening.
Sunbeams dance on my reddened cheeks,
teasing with all the promise
of a new day.
My hope for this day
seems such
a simple wish…

I am not in search of Nirvana,
nor happiness…
What I seek
seems  such
a simple wish.

My dream for this day is…
A brief reprieve
From the agony
of living…

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