This is the wealth that was given to me
Perpetual inadequacy which is much perfect than nothing
A morsel devoutness of one’s identity
As mourning ages, cinder fights
Since there is naught but gray and nights
--the everlasting grief ever be
Slavery, lunacy, perplexity of oneself
For peace is within death
Askance, even shadow left you behind
And bravery is not to compete but to survive
To survive for the morsel identity to remain
For dawn is the other way to flee
And if twilight mollifies every sudden peek
May fractions be healed?
But this courage won’t seem to last
And hope can barely defend
Be fiddled, which would you carry on?
When it’s between soul and faith
And time can’t help but run
I am brave! I am brave! –courage forgoes
But the clouds seemed to fight
What will I do when there is no ‘next’?
--The Daughter of Whatsis
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