the grey clouds overcast the day that has begun
hidden in the darkness, has drear won?
my spirit and soul surrounded,
the trumpet silenced not sounded
driven by desire, future is on fire
have all my aspersions, lost no longer inspired?
the strop no longer sharpens my wits
senses snap sober, saliva building to spit
but the battle is not over, wishing not to quit
not my will is to be done
and the dawn does come
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