Unmotivated
They are unhealthy;
I walk the ways in absence of any light
that still shows a much better world than this one now.
Just in the poem, I help,
and when it sees the loneliness,
the struggle again showing a deadlock since at each step,
another stumbling and gradually,
alone, I do nothing.
Empty life dictates my fortune
and when not remained freedom,
having no a hope; what do you do?
Go with the flow and to be plus one looking around
and not finding motive that still can to give me any pleasure...
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