deepundergroundpoetry.com
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if each year represents a chapter;
many pages are blank;
often one questions what one's after;
how much is in this tank;
survival; second nature, is what one tends to think; the nit and pick and laughter, a switch within would crank;
to second guess each taken breath,
while some are down to nothing left; one goes into a trance so blurred, it might as well be sudden death....
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