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Birthday Thoughts Prufrock meditation:He sits and weaves impossibilities Memories of passions that could never be. Conquests of gals that didn't even know He'd come, he'd seen and taken his last bow. Wrong moves he made that now must be repaid By waves of winces, guilt that can not fade. In a lifetime of poorly picked comforts, Of miscast malice and wasted efforts He now moans and foams into the black void That no man who ever breathed could avoid. Belittled by riddles he never asked He peers into fearful dark that looms, aghast At the howl of time racing ever more fast As days rush by counting down to his last.
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