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A fever has swallowed you whole,
At night, no rest, has taken your soul.

Bordellos put your mind at ease,
But morning comes with no appease.

Days spent with broken back and heavy lung,
Endless mines run deep, traversed rung by rung.

The struggle unending and no riches in sight,
Swinging rope is hope you would invite.

~Josh Brade, “Falling upon hard mines”