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Untitled
Ellen Williams |
Who can we thank, this spectral man,
The architect of life's great plan
Who set us on this course unknown?
We were to wicked currents thrown.
When pressed to leave the native nest
We lost the battle; failed the test.
And so I rail and fill with wrath,
But in this fury lose my path.
So then I fight and fight with rage,
But this too traps me in its cage.
I scratch; I bite; I burn my faith,
And wander like a spectral wraith.
I even pray and beg for grace,
But as for this I find no trace.
For no salvation can I goad
From he that to all this is owed.
But then a voice from nowhere thrums,
In cold remove my answer comes:
"You're not alone, we've all locked swords
In struggles with life's ruthless hordes.
So as the storm assaults the earth,
So do we thrash to death from birth.
The only time you'll find your peace
Is when your beating heart does cease."
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