Born Affluent

There is enough pain in this world to suffer any man
Enough sorrow
Enough sadness
Enough emptiness to ink our pages within
There is tragedy—
Enough to fuel constantly on our arid dreams
And late at night,
The same dream keeps us awake till tomorrows dawn
And the death itself upon us, does not show up so easy
But when it does, it does in mere disguise
As in the eyes of an adolescence shaped into a perfect heart,
That—One true love
Enough to dissolve sweet silence,
Enough to incapacitate the genius within
One too many for me,
One too many for them,

We—the born affluent one

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