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Why do I sit here,
Meditating,
On past actions,
Ideals and thoughts,
Of a long lost,
Personal world.
Isolated from society,
Preconditioned,
To company,
No one to see,
No way to travel,
Sitting,
Reading,
The same twenty books,
Watching,
Listening,
The world outside,
Slowly crumbling,
By its own power.
Prisoner,
In a four cornered cell,
Why bother living,
When all it holds,
To me,
Is death.
1975
while those who wait may use their past full of memories. TK U MLJ LV NV