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the point of being

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somtimes i lie on my bed

gazing at the stars

and wondering

why

i am here

so much

wasted potential...

i could have been...

i should have been...

sigh...

what am i?

no career

no salary

no retirement plan...

when i die

what will be said?

soft shoulders many leaned upon

slow to anger undestanding imperfection

generous with whatever i do have

an ability to love truly uncondionally

silly to the nth-degree

hopeful when discouragement abounds

my career

is living,

my salary

is love,

my retirement plan

is hope...

i think i'll

sleep

peacefully

tonight

To all my precious friends....

Tess

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