As absent as the moon midday,
It makes no sense we can not progress.
For what should be right in every way,
Is truly and unfortunately less.
This day is short and lacks in substance,
The hours run quick and uninspired.
Affirming all it needs is the chance,
Provokes waiting though weary and tired.
But life shows all days must end,
And all the bad must become the good.
The problems you are able to mend,
To find the potential to love, because you should.
That love, it takes many a form,
It may be lacking but in other ways there is a plenty.
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