We are the merchants of loss, they say,
Trading our present, lamenting past days.

With sweat and blood, we sow our pain,
Reaping a harvest of sorrow and strain.

With embers of longing, we ignite our core,
Setting ourselves on fire, craving more.

Shadows flee from us, we give chase,
Lost in desires, we sink, we embrace.

Our dreams in heaps, we find no ground,
Caught in quicksand, forever bound.
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