November the first,

nursed by cursed hopelessness,

first in the start,

last after time went past.

No strength to fight,

just pensive,

I sense my rage,

I’m stuck in my own cage.

I am the prison

and the prisoner,

I might have vision

but it’s blurry,

no solutions,

I just find excuses.

I should look in the mirror

and look for one that’s hidden

because everything I see

is the reason I’m here.

I act like I don’t care

but actually I’m opposite.

I have shame in my eyes.

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