running through my head every day
are those sweet contemplations
to find a better way
to travel down this road i tread
maybe, someday i shall be found
beside the road; in a ditch; dead
life is nothing more than a dream,
sometimes happy,
often sad.
and yet! still holding on,
are those "saints"
we call believers
you might be careful,
some are decievers
i often ponder those sweet contemplations
of finding a better way.
 
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