The days are dark and dull,

Life a drag,

I struggle to breathe,

the fresh air once I rejoiced in,

the smell of the good earth,

whereas, the present presses,

a part of me,

who wants to live,

And thank God,

for all there is his,

I lament my state,

In silent search,

My heart beats,

At a snails pace,

I hardly feel,

The life in me,

At times I urge to seek,

The answers to my state,

But I hardly am near,

To any one of them,

Time has played its trick,

To leave me in melancholy.

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