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Life began in the Windy City,
But the Wind has blown me Here.
And here I’ve stayed for many years
Alone in this place called Here.
Like the tepid water from the faucet rushes,
Life has flown by o’er the years.
It hasn’t been cold,
Hasn’t been warm,
But mild, unlike the climate Here.
The Seasons come and go as they please,
But the Summer stays near to my heart.
As the burning sun beats on the drive
The near glacial water springs from the green snake.
And as the sun burns, burns the Earth,
My mind is branded with the thoughts of Summer.
Childhood is Bliss, every child should know.
If I had, perhaps life would be more fulfilling.
But maybe it’s for the better,
For now my appreciation of Bliss is far greater.
Though Life is not Euphoria,
I feel content with myself.
Myself is who I am,
Blown from the City to Here,
But maybe, just maybe
Here isn’t so bad after all.
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