people · Poetry

Purpose

Scratching the surface of what my purpose is, 

Hopefully the sins of the father never resurfaces, 

Burdened with gifts from life’s expensive purchases,

No time allowed for boring me, i can’t exchange time, there is no extended warranty,

No one warning me of Tomorrow’s unknown sorrows,

There are no instructions to follow, just the dream and its contruction of a definite purpose that follows

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