The most stable of men fear what is not known.
They hide from solitude and run from sorrow,
And sleep away troubles 'til the morrow;
Where the sunlight finds them all the more alone,
A heart ignored, a conscience to condone.
To live alone it to live and know;
The most troubled man has time to think,
A cycle of thoughts pushing Stability to its brink.
A mind of sadness holds much to show;
A reason to love and a longing to grow.
A brief time may come where love does stun
The longevity of days. But love cannot cure a sadness so true;
Light again will leave, forbidding any brighter hue.
But if that time does come when suffering is done,
Where the cure is obtained, and the course has run.
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