So easily we fall into the depths of ourselves
Drowned by tears of self-loathing
Weakened by the blood of personal iniquity
Chilled by the breeze of our passionless journey
Suffocated by the flames of our infinite anger
So easily we die to ourselves
No resurrection day for poor me
Forever in our grave clothes
Mummified and laid on an altar of an egotism
Dead is the man we once knew
Until the day we are born a new
We must die daily to ourselves
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