In the crinkled chapters of my past,
I sometimes unearth my solicitude,
Tangled in the cobwebs of reflection,
I reason my perennial solitude.
Reminiscing the diabolic chapters of my yore,
In grief I trudge through my present being,
Incapable of bypassing history,
I am stuck in an unceasing cycle of self-pitying.
With severed intrepidity I subsist,
My "amour-propre" is in shambles,
Awaiting emancipation,
I wait on cadavers of all lost battles.
This sorrowfulness is beyond my fortitude,
The suffering I can take no more,
The memories of my slaughtered past mauls me,
I yearn for this turmoil to cure!
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