Most of my dreams and desires,
the covetings of my heart,
my aspirations, my yearnings
seem to have been fulfilled,
yet thousands of them still smoulder
in the hearth of my heart
yet unfulfilled;
Ah, the mere inkling of these unearned wishes
pulls my heart apart;
each wish being sufficient enough
to make me feel like dying;
Like a heart full of a myriad of desires
yet to be fulfilled,
A victim of the brutal hands of time,
Here I sit with my fingers crossed.
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