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June 6, 2012

 

 

He couldn’t see the wood for the trees,

he’d got in far too deep.

His life had become a jungle,

and at times he would sit and weep.

 

He couldn’t break from the monotony.

He was on a conveyor belt.

His ambitions had long since left him.

All he had was the hand life had dealt.

 

His family took him for granted

And swallowed up all he could earn.

He even contemplated suicide,

He didn’t know which way to turn.

 

In the end, one day he just walked off,

Sometime in the middle of May.

He took on a new identity,

and found a new life, far away.

 

 

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