In the dusky days of your journey,
The white snowflakes striking your face
Trying to soak your young skin,
To make you sit on the verge of road
and taste of the pieskos.
Trying to create angst in you
for what you were born to
The fellow Travellers contending,
To make you feel worn out
Aprise them to stop cynicism now
As your blessed with vigor,
To suffer any future Tempest.
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