Query

In that black pout
where you live,
do you really think
someone will come
to pull you out?

And if rescuers should
by some miracle appear,
would you hear them
above your whining
reptile tears?

And if they extend
weary hands to help,
will you be wise
and take a chance
for life to rise?

In a world so wide,
why would you choose
to forever dwell
in your own
private hell?

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