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The heart seeks pleasure first

and then, excuse from the deeds;

and then, those awkward moments

where the suffering exceed

The wow echoes with the gust

and the wretched silence wail

the minutes turn to hours

as the tint of mischief turns pale

The demise of all emotions

and the search for tranquil seas

the filthy heart restored

as the suffering now recedes

And then, to fall again

and then, if there should be

a trace of will to succeed

it'll last for eternity