No light at the end of the tunnel

There is this subtle trick,
That the master magician plays,
You think that the darkness,
Of the days gone by,
Is a thing of the past.

You attempt at putting,
Every wound, every teardrop,
Every bit of anger and anguish,
Behind you, to start afresh!

But no, the constant reminder,
That the joke is on me,
Shows up in the strangest of ways!
Try as much as I can,
The darkness never gives way to light.

Perhaps some of us,
Are meant to only,
Stay behind in shadows,
Waiting for the Grim Reaper,
To call us out, to fulfill our duties.



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