deepundergroundpoetry.com
One of them
In the morning all I do is mourn,
At night I rue my plight,
Thus soon another fear is born,
Black and white dictates my sight,
I chase those I know have no interest,
For their rejection will not be new,
So I am nothing to the rest,
And it matters not what I do,
Or what I think,
What I say,
I’m on the brink,
I’m in their way.
At night I rue my plight,
Thus soon another fear is born,
Black and white dictates my sight,
I chase those I know have no interest,
For their rejection will not be new,
So I am nothing to the rest,
And it matters not what I do,
Or what I think,
What I say,
I’m on the brink,
I’m in their way.
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