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A quick bit of prose(?) written as I waited at work; an effort to understand this sadness that often follows me like a shadow.
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Little brown man,
little brown man,
why do you cry?
I cry because I work,
I work until I die.
Little brown man,
little brown man,
why do yo..
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As each day is chipped from the rock of our existence, our physical life is reduced. Yet this daily sculpting serves to give us shape and purpose. Eac..
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There is a time,
betwixt the velvety gloaming
and sunlight’s first blushing rays,
when I dream of castles,
flying dragons
and magic.
In ..
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I am a rock.
With jagged and sharpened edges I defy the sand.
It is a sea surrounding me. Always it pushes, scratches, whispers ....
I do n..
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