These past four seasons
I've had what I need--
All of the reasons
& purpose to bleed.
Through each transition
Or otherwise change,
A different position,
As everything's strange.
Now one more time,
I hope it's the last,
Will I ever shine,
& stand out of my past?
The periods at first,
As memory permits,
Each and every burst,
Just gnaws at your wits.
You already have foes,
Before you're even there,
Someone asks how it goes,
Alas, some people care.
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