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A Year In Snow Globe.

I find myself with fish bowl vision.

Curved reality.

Desolated missions.

Each luck of the draw,


Every last glimmer of hope,

I can't help myself.

So tempting.

The result.

Always the same fate.

I'm beginning to want to withdraw,

From this predictable game.

A lame horse,

Struggling down a treacherous lane.

Pot hole after Pot hole.

An unfair display,

Of it's true beauty,


Blizzard after blizzard of knock downs.

Strength of my hope,


Resembling a battle field rope.

I've asked myself the question.

How sustainable is this life,

How long can that old trusty rope,

Cope with this?

Hope no longer sharp enough,

To break through glass.

Pickled in my tears,

My head,


Shook upside down,


On the outside beautiful music plays.

Glitter falls on my stone face.

Some perception.

Unable to move my legs.

Start fresh,

In any direction...

Just leave me here.

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