It is truly shit that they seem to cross their fingers and say that there is but one such way – for there surely, truly, are a million such ways to bring it all back together
Life on a circumspect, respectful knife-edge.

So it seems to be… her eyes are beginning to fade yet she feels fucking real.

Desirably sacrilege if we fail at these travesty-ingested things again. Paint the sky alight til it feels frightfully right.

And be shit-sure to recognise every single face but for your own – in-between, the beauty and the pain, the rain will resolve to win at this game called strife.

Call it fucking Life and sprint with your arms wide opened.

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