To live within the grasp of life,
And there after to throw it apart like it has never happened.
Sweet sorrow, perhaps.
Like a fire seeping black.
When it seeps black, would we remember the first instances,
Of life's one initial journey and what will follow after?
I master my destiny, yet in many ways I lost to my own contempt.
Where would contempt lay? Asking my heart the truth.
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