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Clearly Mud

Sitting here in my stuffy chair
thinking upon my own existence,
pondering the life you must have led,
wondering about your intricate qualities.

I know nothing of you and
yet, your passing
weighs heavily upon
my heart laden with lead.

Can I absorb your tragedy to?
No longer a matter of strength,
truly an issue of plausibility;
one I cannot answer.

My focus I find wanes,
solely encumbered by
a blurred image of you
I crave to see in detail.

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