Still here.
Of fields below and roads ahead
I count once more, to lay my head
Upon that sheet, so damp and pale,
In hope that I will never fail.
Of failing in darkness or failing in light
My attempts are but a modest plight
And be that I live on as it may,
My time is tinted in shades of grey.
Don’t look upon me with compassionate eyes
You’ll never see through my clever disguise.
So mourn only those who are gone and done,
I will wake again to the rising sun.
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