It’s that feeling when everyone turns against you,
The elements conjure new tricks to deceive you,
Whatever you touch turns to mud, the skyline dark,
You are at the fag end of your wits, that Dry feeling.
The taps of life run Dry, there are no more tears,
The mind searched for the elusive oasis in the desert,
You know who stands by you, and who ran away,
You are like the Dry twigs, ready to be stamped out.
The inner reserve comes to fore, when there is nothing to lose,
The fight to finish has begun, losing is not an option,
Eyes light up, unwavering resolve, win at all costs,
Rain wets your path, Dry drowns in its own tears.
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