When once a pool deep and full,
Now only muddy puddles remain;
Once waters teaming with life,
Are shallows emotionally drained.
The struggle that's life still goes on,
But in waters too murky to see;
Circling round with no clear direction;
As separated from the main sea.
Will the last little puddle go dry?
Or the fragile balance be maintained?
Dreams and life's lines hardened in clay,
Erased in a torrent of rain.
Such are the lines of my life,
Lost in a flood of salt tears;
Leaving new clay, soft to be molded;
Free from traces of yesterday's years.
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