I shudder at your hollow plea,
To think I’d call you kin to me.
You begged for meaning, sought my hands,
Then turned away for softer lands.
Did you not know—the path is steep?
No worthy life is won in sleep.
Through trials faced and lessons learned,
The strongest hands are those that earned.
You sicken me with aimless dreams,
To drift along the endless streams.
If I forsake the fire inside,
Then all I was has faded and died.
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