Oh, these are the worst of times!
If there were darker days,
the sky would be as black as space!
Crying men at every turn,
wailing with young babies' yearns!
The tears pool up and fill the streets;
a dreadful visage, quite, indeed!
And as a watcher, I indulge,
in padding out the somber bulge,
my face dry, but lips still slick,
fooled, perhaps, by my own tricks.
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