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They don’t know, can’t comprehend
what it’s like to long for end.
Smile is there for all to see,
unaware pain inside me.

All the words of grand advice
courtesy of folks so nice,
agonies to which they’re blind
till I sleep from time I rise.

Family with thoughts and prayers
salves not wounds nor provides care,
cornerstone on swampy ground
supports not; good will abounds.

Condemnate and call us weak
we from pain some solace seek?
Flow of tears, then a cold grave
is the fate of every knave.

I will fight with all my strength,
strength’s finite, just so much length.
Bloody knees upon which crawl
sometimes pray, “Please, end it all.”

Jesus prayed, upon His cross
forgiveness, “They know not what.”
What we do can’t comprehend?
Pray it’s so until your end.

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