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Cold, silent emptiness runs through my soul.
It beckons to me, waiting, ready to attack,
To pull me into the cold depths
Of depression, dark and empty, no hope in sight.
I will not go quietly into the pit of despair.
But this shall pass, and give way to hope
I plant what little hope I have into the ground.
I fertilize it, nourish it, shelter and protect it, until
A beautiful bed of roses has bloomed.
With my two hands, tired and beaten,
I have taken control of myself, and created life anew.
As the sun slowly sets on my little world,
My hope garden is snuffed out.
I feel myself losing control, losing ground.
A force pulls into the waiting shadow.
I give in to the irresistable forces.
Cold shadow swirls around me, like a cyclone,
And this too shall pass, as easily as it came in,
As the cold moon sets, and the sun rises,
On a bright new day.
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