Deal with the searing pain,
that steady drains the brain
of thought and creativity,
leaving only lonliness and self pity.
{My body hurts...my mood swings...}
To the rhythm of life,
And the surgeon's knife.
that cuts through the haze
of the opiate daze...
{ that leaves me old...leaves turn gold.}
my autumn is near,
with it's doubts and fears...
winter doth comes
my time is done.
{ ashes to ashes...dust to dust...}
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