As happy as could be,
Because the things I write basically say,
Life is a tragedy,
Though, as I write those words my mind is free,
From guilt of impure thoughts,
The joy of expression's enough to thwart,
The imperfections with which life is fraught.
If this is a notion you can't compute,
And fear all that I write,
Seeing yourself in my attempt to solve,
What is wrong and what's right,
Then I can't help,
Nor can I ever cease,
Or I'd deny myself a great pleasure,
Something Hume said you should never let be.
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