I feel trampled by grief.
Grief for my life.
Grief for my station.
Grief for my inability to see through the fog.
How long must I wear this black veil?
My life has been passing me by.
But I have yet to live a day.
My goals.
What goals?
As soon as I am tethered toward them,
They sink like quicksand,
I follow,
Then it all turns to shattered dreams.
I grieve over again.
The cycle remains.
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