The Sands of Rhyme
Twilight, and the Moon-lit waves
Tranquilly crashing upon the shore
A draught of drink is all I crave,
My sordid Past... all I deplore
Do come to me, for I am the Beach,
Please quench your thirst; drink dry my sands
My ambitions seem far out of reach
As I write my life with pain-stricken hands
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