Complaint

What do you complain about the most?

There’s the heat, and there’s the cold
To be young, and to be old
There’s the ever nearing feeling
Of eternal isolation

There’s horror come of company
The unknown that you want from me
And the greater dread of knowing
All I could never give alone

There’s the day and there’s the night
There is wrong and there is right
And in the end it’s everything
That life meant me to be shown.

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