There is a drink of life on the table of guilt sip it slow, never once thought I would lose my soul on the floor of memory and revived by my own thoughts of what I once in a life lived through...poetry my only cup, life is my only chaser...tho some may beg to differ, I beg for things to remain unchanged...the cup of poetry, saving every last drop for life is in the depths of this cup I drink and this cup may very well be the life of me...
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