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To Pestering

Grant me peace!
To pester
And pester
And pester;
See how the repetition adds
Nothing
To the meaning?
I’ll not write
On what I feel no need to write on
I’ll not drone
On things I find boring
Anguish is my current muse;
There is no epic there!
Grandiose posturing and pretence
May as well be my middle name
As I lolligag from A to C,
Skipping the mid set entire
Because I’m always too quick to commit
To solid feelings of hope!
I’m young yet.
Don’t push for a tragic certainty
The only epic I could describe
Is the crushing loneliness
Of sitting on a chair,
Breathing that same stale air
And that, is a dedication
I could do without.
I will wait,
Until the weight
Lays less heavily upon
My mind and conscious
We both know no product of mine
Will express happiness
yet

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