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Billie Holiday by Banksy

trudging along, vanquished attempts at being strong,

stumbling through, the fogged gaze of the untrue,

falling down, picking up pieces of my broken frown,

standing up, in the sleety rains, clinging onto hope’s slippery reins,

today, tomorrow, as warm blood flows through these veins,

haggard hope, a constant, remains …
… …

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