In my life I long for thrill 

That turns out like an oil spill 

Those promises I can’t fufill 

The jokes feel like a poison pill.

The memories I want to kill

Remedy of that hole to fill 

And saturate my life until

Once again time stands still

Frozen over with an icy chill

To fix my wounds would take some skill. 

Leave me alone with just my quill 

Writing painful themes of joy turned ill

My words have racked up quite the bill

Having granted me love or dismal nil.

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