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From darkness, darkness is collected,
That the bright light hurts the eyes,
That the heart seeks what it has rejected,
That again it will despise.
It is the familiar that brings consolation,
And the failure that nurtures hope,
That we renew our application
Refusing to believe we cannot cope.
And we think less of our selves,
That our standards are not raised,
And guilt inside us dwells
Where our instincts should be praised,
For there is a better place...
That leads not to such disgrace.
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