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The Umbrella
The Umbrella
1 min
222
The shade under his halves of misfortunes,
A line of the unmarked graveyard was made.
It tossed him back and forth with its vows, again and again.
He saw sunshine a moment away, then rain dropped on his head again.
Odds changed his mirror on life.
Shy and denied.
He kept on rising like an amateur,
Till the knife kept him sharp-edged again.
The shade under his halves of misfortunes-
A Renaissance living to be painted in vain.
