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Epilogue in Aim. 

Till these knots inside untie
I spit in your eye
as if in some futile quest
for satisfaction.

Till the time has come I work
on being one
with myself, reconciling
the opposites

juggling within, hoping
to rise above the endless tension
I cradle like an infant.

Childhood lit my fuse,
death has become my muse.
Where does this end?
Where will I go in the wake of it?
Are you, is this all worth
this pain and suffering?

Live, learn, die, hope
to come back with some insight.


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