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Coming to Terms

Peeking through the yellowed drape
A ray of hope shines in.

Outside the world awaits
While inside, my mind, it spins.

Listening to the Nature
The Pride of the Bumble Bee
Or the Aristocrat Of The Song Bird
Truly, it does entice me.

SO long,
Locked inside
This prison of Doom and Gloom

Where feelings of physical pain
And mental misery
Fill up my wailing room.

A room where too many tears are shed
A room where despondence grows

A place where sheer despair
Knows no bounds
A place that true suffering knows.

I walk SO close to the door
The key held tightly in my hand

Apprehensive to open up to the OutSide
Afraid of Mother natures Green Growing land.

For too many years a prisoner
Of all of my lifes regrets

The pains of dealing with ones ownself
'Tis a Ghost, that must be met!


(Dedicated to Ms. J. M. Davis)

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