I’ve been digging deep,
Unfailingly soaring high;
Thriving in lifeless lands,
Under the ashen skies;
I’ve been standing still,
While they’ve been passing by;
Heartily I’ve always laughed,
Hushedly I usually cry;
I’m thirty-six now,
And I’m not goin’ to lie.
Through troubled waters deep,
Around unscalable mountains high;
Over scant, squandered lands,
Across endless, forfeited skies;
Up I’ve been holding still,
In the face of every passer-by;
Explicitly I’ve always laughed,
Furtively I often cry;
Well, I’m thirty-six now,
And I’m not goin’ to lie.
Rapacious bites etching deep,
Morphine pushing senses high;
Heisting hearts in forbidden lands,
Dropping my guard under acrid skies;
Painting my worn-out self in a life-still,
Reasons holding back, seasons gliding by;
Candidly I’ve always laughed,
Pointlessly I ne’er cry;
Oh, damn! I’m thirty-six now,
And, I’m not goin’ to lie.
—The Archangel's Diary
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