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Fantasy I created deserted me, left me ablated.
Blindfold that covered my eyes now is neither proper shape nor size.
I am withered, I am dry, aspirations know no reprise;
Mirage I was heading for has dissolved and is no more.

Reality far too stark has icy grip around my heart;
All I see is perverse bunch who seem intent on me for lunch.
Smiling eyes that look my way now seem to peer at me as prey.
People play games within games, two faced monsters without shame.

Every rock in every field when uplifted maggots revealed.
Creeping, crawling ugliness infests my soul I here confess
Spring should be time of rebirth; fear I know just costs not worth.
Nowhere to run nor to hide when darkness in self does reside.

Winter of my discontent, cold, hard place with love absent;
How has life come down to this, where all speak in fork-tongued hiss?
Perfidy of self betrayed leads me to this upright grave
Hell in many varied forms into my heart has deeply bored.