Sometimes I wish to just not try
As if this life were a turgid lie.
Held together by the will of my existence
This life if it may burst
Maybe will reside in a book-like Hearse
Imprinted in vision and permanence,
But only if my life carries worth.
That's why my attempts are
Filled to the brim with girth
And energy abounds, so I am noticed.
The benefits seen though in a posthumous
Daydream.
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