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The Mediocrity

Beholden I am for mercies
those with time got bestowed

The apportioned reality and
awards that time has endowed

The ones served on the platter
were accepted as destined ordain

And for all what was improbable
I didn't once rue or complain

No space for any penitence
with leftover window seeming brief

It's to accept what one has at hand
and from it so seek relief

It's inane to pick old shards
in an attempt to try and dissect

Present is that bridge which
to the future eventually connect

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