I'm frightened of what's to come,
For life seems not to abscond,
As my fantasy grows narrower,
The enthusiasm fades like the trade,
The more I saw the less it becomes,
It curls but of difficulty,
Sometimes I feel like to deter,
But of what use is life without hurdles?
Even in our fantasies we like mysteries,
The higher I go the steeper it becomes,
Just like a rope curled into a corn,
It's difficult to make but beautiful to site.
My life
MAJ
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