(i have to send great thanks the the smiths for the title)

And that I live in a hole.

Don’t we all? It’s so much easier to jam your head into a hole, much like an ostrich.

The problems are still looming above, unfortunately.

The only thing the pain has taught me is that it’s inevitable.

Now I’m twisting, and I’m turning.

And it’s not convincing.

My stomach churns and the storm continues to rage.

Or is it the waves?

Waves of acid, swishing and swirling.

Eating at the once-strong walls.

(Writing poetry about stomach ulcers is rather amusing, isn’t it?)

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