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March 12, 2017

My eyes are heavy and damp.

6 AM is not a time for a man to be up.

Legs quiver and the toes cramp.

Vices kept my thoughts corrupt.

Vices made my mind defiled.

In order for any sort of rest,

it was called anything but mild.

A Man in servitude to his own interest,

must know that his life lacks seriousness.

The event of possibly being vulnerable.

He must peacock is superciliousness.

For his life is just barely valuable.

From → Poems

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