The Nature of My Woes
And though my woe
Is known even more so
And has grown with a frigid vengeance,
My heart still does beat,
Sending blood to my feet,
And forward I move, independent.
Now, that isn't to say
That my vision won't sway,
Or my knees never bend close to breaking,
But my lungs, they do swell
And I know very well
That I live,
And my world will stop shaking.
So if ever someday I cease moving,
Or my heart stutters out to a stop;
If the air all around me won't enter my lungs
I'll be buried, my woes overtop.
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