The year is gone. Again
The fresh air burns the throat.
The sun does not light the place.
You hear manufacture roar,
You're not likely to keep the pace.
The Postmodern kids arise
And you are just over the board.
When all your time flies and flies
No more having fun. Another day dies.
The snowflakes
Keep falling and falling.
Your headaches are gone.
The morning turns happier today.
You stay no another winter prey.
25.12.2020
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