If they who have suffered are truly blessed,
Then
mine is lifetime beyond all reproach.
The
circus calliope mocks its refrain
Attempting
in vain to cover the hoax born in
Happier
times before you went away,
Before
all the skies became brooding and gray,
Before
life became such a trivial wisp
Of
smoke knowing nothing of night and day.
Yes,
it's true my lament has a sadness avoid
Of
all gladness the sane world holds dearly in store.
But
hope is my neighbor, my roommate, companion
And
guide who searches behind every door.
And
though I am skeptical, slow to
Accept
my litmus example put to the test,
I
can't play the martyr or run the risk
Of
missing the chance to be truly blessed.
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