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No Hope for the Hopeless
I doubt myself,
And all my worth,
I hate this life,
And curse my birth,
No need to wait,
For my 6 feet of earth,
I’m already dead and buried,
In this hearse I call skin,
'Cause I’ve laughed for so long,
While I’ve cried from within,
So laugh with the cynics,
At all hopes that I’ll win,
'Cause victory is an illusion,
A mirage I can’t touch,
Why should I delude myself,
With visions of such?
I’d rather die a broken cynic,
Before using hope as my crutch.
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