Yet My Call, Became A Whisper

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Yet my call, became a whisper,

In these atrocious times.

Whilst in jubilant motions,

The bell still chimes.


Exhausted by solemn passers,

Acknowledging my face.

In all my feeble trysome acts,

Where I try to establish my place.


Precious moments of solitude,

Ripped from my unyielding heart.

As vulgar bystanders in silence,

Urge for a ferocious start.


My feeble attempts to be perilous,

Forgotten somewhere in between.

By trying to become sagacious,

I'm still in need of someone on whom I can lean.


Anxious of what tomorrow holds,

I turn gaunt in stress.

In stead of being immaculate and colossal,

I might just have to settle for less.


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