The dew is not formed here
The winters may come, and the flower petals may yearn for it
But due never comes here, ever.
The joys of small little joys are gone forever, they are gone
To find them, to search for them, I have to search farther lands
They are not found here
Its concrete here, in the mind, and in the surroundings
Its all I get here, why did I come here
where is inspiration, why do I have to dig deep within to find it
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