9. The Sunday/Mundane Beau

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My happiness had become a drug
A high that had become unexplainable
Because it only truly happened
Ever so often


My sadness had become a reality
A pain that had become impenetrable
Because it had truly happened
Every dark night


When my existence was realized
I'd be glad to be here
Glad that I am able to live
Every blue moon


When my existence is realized
I'd kill not to be here
Kill for a shot at loneliness
Every sunny day

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