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My Sun


If I let myself sit and think,
About times long past,
The clouds cover up my sun,
But that never lasts.

The sun always peeks through,
Trying hard to make me smile,
But sometimes I shove it off;
Telling it to wait a while.

I say that I like to be cold;
Don't want to be warm.
I tell that sun to leave me now!
Don't wanna be free from harm.

Yet, here comes that silly thing,
Popping out of the rain.
Telling me to stand up and smile;
And never give in to pain.


August 17,1999