It would be nice,
To get back things we’ve lost,
But they are not coming back,
No matter how hard you try.
We’ve bartered them off,
Little pieces of ourselves,
For hopes, regrets and ventures,
Or purposeless endeavours.
Terms of trade were not read,
No returns or refunds.
We got every worth our while,
Till all that’s left is,
A dry empty husk,
With nothing to give.
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