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Dire is your journey,

And heavy is your heart

Always toiling,

When last were you given respite?

The authors of fate

and their cruel links of causality,

Do they lift not a finger in your ache?

Oh, Struggler,

Perilous life and longing strife

Lest not you forget,

The mortal soul’s nature is to survive

So, cough up your blood,

With your head held high,

Sunder down the stars and

Heed your path with surefire might


Weary from your journey,

And burdened by god’s blithe,

Always remember,

You were made to survive.

By Ena Cintakinta Ivković


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