i can't help
that i am solemn.
i can't change
my somber demeanor.
it is the weariness
that preserves me
from the pangs and pains
of nostalgia
and love
or lack of.
it is the fuel
for my restless days;
the tasteless,
wretched moments
that carry me,
drifting,
day to day.
i carry my straight face:
reluctant,
serious,
hopeful.
i live forever
a contradiction
to the thoughts
teeming
within my brain.
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