Not a single word of worth,
High and dry,
Repetition of failure,
Its that time of year,
When I will lie to myself again.
Believe in spirits,
Magic and miracles,
In being alive,
Breathing, until it will all amount to another year end,
Nothing,
Then I will write this again,
Always have,
That's the thing about time and habit,
Both human,
Entwined in a make-believe folly.
Whatever, it is that time of the year -
Remainder and reminder of failure.
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