Running down the street,
the lurking black blob of shame,
its face makes it hard to run,
so it catches me.
I couldn't have hoped to run forever,
All I can do now is to regret.
The room is dark,
only a yellow butterfly staring from the wall.
It stares with disdain,
ashamed to be on my wall.
I cannot blame him for that.
I blame myself too, as I should.
I should have worked,
I promised myself to.
But I have failed to fullfill,
though all is not lost yet.
Shame
it and only,
exclusively,
lives on.
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