What does life hand you?
A bag of hammers
Up above is a sky so gray; not too blue
And your tone, oh so cacophonous, is in my ear as it clamors
Here I see the walls of yesterday
And the scars of years ago
Where the infection stays to fester
Under which I reside; the rock below
Hold me close
Eradicate the pillars of this erection
And I am myopic at most
All the while fearing your rejection
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