The mind, mine especially,
Is a morass,
Gooey and implacable,
Born of darkest, dark thoughts,
And cold pessimism,
sustained, its stodge and glue refreshed,
By the pitch night of my thoughts,
But of late,
A kernel, unsullied, untarred,
Brightens the gloop,
Filters its filthy waters and floods my mind with light,
Sows seeds of hope,
Nourished by thier own radiance,
It's a start.
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