(T. Beechey)

If only I could sneak a look at unwritten pages in a book

Then,from myself,I would be shook with every tiny step I took

Just like ripples in a brook,sometimes I find a secret nook

To hide away from the dangled hook of each labeled as a crook

And every time that old wind blows,another side that's hidden shows

Even when you've chance to doze,within your dreams the fury grows

That's just the way life sometimes goes,what's the answer? No one knows

I guess it's just one of those questions that will never close

Sometimes I wonder why I'm here,this is no time to laugh or jeer

All the things that I hold dear are with me as I keep them near

The time is coming close,I fear,to everything becoming clear

Maybe in a coming year,I'll find out why I did appear

What's the meaning? Where's the sense? Who knows what's beyond the fence?

Perhaps it's something so immense without a chance for recompense

We'll only understand it whence we put aside our arguments

For the loudness of a voice which vents becomes a whisper in past tense

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