Morne

Me and my misery held hands yesterday, 

And hers were soft,

And mine were burning

And hers were steady

And mine were shaking 

And hers took turns in loving me 

And mine were full of hatred

Today I held hands with my misery 

And mine were indifferent 

And hers were clawing to hold on

Mine were

Hers weren’t 

Tomorrow I’ll be holding hands 

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