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I cried,
How in my life
I will never live in space,
how I will never live on,
or visit Mars,
never serve on cargo ships
to our mining colonies.

Was Dr. Von Braun wrong?

I cried in my loneliness
between my sheets,
of empty pleasures and
and how my stomach groans
on such a diet.

They tell me,
Those doctors,
those people,
that my life is worth living.

Of poverty and potentials
unfulfilled.

I beg your pardon,
I disagree.

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