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Four seasons had passed Since the day I left home encrusted Feelings of which are hard to find Written in three coloured proses lines There I pen my blood in tears One pushing joy One pulling fear Eight scripts, hexa-tens I have back Looks like a winning strike But in marginal plight Inked merely hepty three Annum ahead had just begun Must ready myself with arms To tackle furry milk My arcane on silk -- 13/7/04 Commentary: Wrote this poem at the end of my 3rd year undergraduate before I go into honours year. It was a tough year and a difficult time as I did not do well for my first semester of my 3rd year; hence, pulled down my overall grades to merely a 3rd class honours. It was an uphill battle for my honours project and I need to do very well to get into graduate studies.