May, my, you, they

Looking for a reason to have hope

But I do not find any

It is just the same

But thirty years later

I am older not wiser

Less prospects not more

Alone I came to face the world

And the world is ugly

Even in May

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About

I am who I was when I wrote this text but I do not know if I exist now. I am from Scandinavia where the arctic starts

Tagged with: , , , , , , , ,
Posted in manipulation, may, Pain, patterns, Poem, Poems, Poetry

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