What gets lost in details in cumbersome suffering for those
Who choose jealousy.
How many times have you witnessed the rehearsal or practice to see the failure
That gave way to
Unrepetitive Talent and the nuance of an innovative mind
To find yourself lackluster
In twisting the ways of another’s mortality
Only to find yourself in a world built of love and struggle and distance
And you think it’s attentions and statistics that keeps me bound further to persue a life not granted, sitting terminal at every bus station for a hope to cling on and not start over.
Comatose riddled beetles and my mind traveled and wandered in dreams for every hope the root
Will sew me into the fabric of the weave of life. My only struggle is to know I could give way at any second and my only persistence is to keep explaining the story so I don’t get it wrong again. [my way.]
petrichor - archive 