No use.
Don't bother waking up.
Each day ever blue,
droning on,
dragging me behind
by my right leg.
Who directs this play?
Such a script of havoc.
I turn from the text,
and look to the blinding lights
of the now empty stage.
Stop rowing the boat.
I'm getting quite nauseous.
Let me off
this untamed black horse
So I can find the supposedly
green blades of grass.
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