It's over and I'm left alone
without the comfort of the known.
With only regrets of the past
that guide me through the year ahead.
Mistakes lay rubble, blocking and
molding the forward march. The sins
are heavy, merits useless, and
an echo from behind instills
the weary. Like stone standing still
we lay affixed as useless sheep
of the herd. The Creator's staff
punishes all. The beat constant.
Relief is limited, but yet
the parade moves on. Always and
forever, we the sheep move on.
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