The sun beats me down this dry desert,
Thirst so great to abstain is to hurt,
Lonely I wander some thoughts I ponder,
First of my own will now trapped still,
A mirage on the horizon beckons ill,
For if I chase and climb this hill,
Hope for relief my breath held tight,
Futile effort it remains out of sight,
Stubborn I suppose I continue the fight,
Determined to die grasping for light
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