Fearing untamed animals
on the dark and lonely moor;
seeing only wintry sunset
vastness through the door,
we take the lowest road,
the line of least resistance,
the better safe than sorrow way
to painful raw existence.

Frostbitten, frozen, we resist
those things which have to be,
while secretly (resentfully)
wishing we were free;
rebuffing those within whose
hearts ...

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