We’ve been digging, placing our tired knees rather silently by one another’s trembling side
Trying to smile, all of this hidden beneath a true degree of utterly unasked for despair
Nobody is prepared to fail all over again – whilst our mad ‘master’ pokes our trembling, stick-stricken shoulders time and time
He says that we will fail either way
A miniscule meal made for us, thrown at us every other moon-choked a.m.
Tell me this, when, oh when will the sun ever get to return

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