not a pilgrim or in catan,
set sail to discover land
cast my sight far and distant
for clear seas and golden sand
halfway through, shipwrecked
climb aboard a muddy swamp,
immediately, by trees i'm decked
my rations by animals stomped
so i try to make the best,
be a good settler,
pretending that going west
instead of my intended east is better
but why am i always trying
to make the best of a crappy
situation? smiling while dying
isn't going to make me happy
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