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take the wind out of the sails
stuck on the equator without a breeze
like dogs chasing their tails
i wish for an escape, my sorrows to ease

self asking self yesterday morning
what am I depressed about?
a pained sadness long standing
stuck in a dried river bed- a drowning trout

sky over wheat as clouds rain blood
dust hangs in the streets, death marches strong
grief overflowing as rivers flood
i try to hold on, singing simple songs

a man walks through the streets carrying unknown weight
in his soul and grief overhead his duty is to remember
and while nine slots to be filled number in eight
a girl prays that rain will fall long before september

we wish for a storm and we pray for the rain
i call it folley while the warnings remain unread
we wish for a storm to come even if it brings pain
i can only pray that fire does not strike us dead