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Disillusioned, yes,
but no regret.
Optimism brought me to this place,
and where would I be if I walked in pessimistic boots.
I cannot, and will not, deny the burden that befell this being,
scrutinised in black and white.
I have loved, and I have cursed,
black death and whites doves hand-in-hand.
From conception, to this weather worn cast,
I have bled and hide deep rooted scars.
So here I remain, uncertain in fortune,
disillusioned, yes, but no regret,
for how can I grieve of what I have never held.
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Poetry: No regrets
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