A life without a plan.
I surely understand;
What this life will eventually become;
Lying face up in the ground for not some
But all, who live and breath.
My life has been nothing but a sand-
pile of memories,
Porously passing through my hand;
With only a grain,
A stain,
Left in my palm;
An alm
Of hope;
Which I pray I can pass onto my seed;
Before I have no more to bleed.
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