Moss
In my most lonely and passing moments of despair
I ask myself how much longer am I to be locked in
this dismal world of nothingness.
In this orphan state of existence, I long to be more
than what I am.
With deep deliberation, I have concluded that my life
is that of a moss, spreading along the trunks of tall
mighty trees, and along the banks of cooling streams.
With no purpose in life than to hide from the sun, from
a labyrinthine of complexity that life has to offer.
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