25th May
On such a day, one should be happy, without burdens, without despair. But I am not. A heavy heart, a troubled soul, plague me. A sombre sigh, a morbid moan. This fool's paradise, is but without hope. But what is hope? Is what I feel caused by the the deprivation of hope? Or is it the abundance of emptiness?
But who am I to complain? I brought it all upon myself.
On this day, my heart weeps.
But who am I to complain? I brought it all upon myself.
On this day, my heart weeps.
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