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Robbed Leisure, Dear Contemplation

Miles before i sleep,
ah! ! wise would weep!

unending strife fuels the rase,
of an ultimate wild goose chase.

an other mile,
to destroy the while,
and then the present sabotaged.

Untill every mile that shall pass is already passed in this grave folly.

Thus in the womb of unrest, depraved meaning,
self appaulds in his bed of contemplation and leisure.

Miles before i sleep,
Ah! i would weep.
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