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Comments about James Sterling
There are times
When a certain heaviness falls upon me
And casts a strange spell of gloom.
I sit and stare
At the dreary monitor before me
There are lots and lots of things to do
In so little time
But I don’t seem to care or fear
I just endure the passing time
In that little prison
They call ‘cubicle’
I just don’t know
Why it happens?
But it is happening
E very now and then
This is what they call