Questions I ask myself

Words left me and deprived me of thinking.The real me left also and made me feel lost.As much as I would have loved some belongings, I craved attention at my enemies beck.How would they feel? my followers, how would they cope? After all have said and done.
I'm nothing but the chaff the wind chose to blow away not even as a pollen grain.Do I have hope to hold on to? Do I have a little conscience to draw  from? Where as my head knowledge gotten me? Where will my hope take me?
As I sat thinking I looked to the skies, the stars are there twinkling.Still holding on as the night crawls by, then why won't I continue to hold on?

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