Carrying 10 X their weight…

Current mood: depressed

Poet of the damned. Lyrical liar. Tell from the look in their eyes. Just like my sunrise/sunset. It’s all the same. The script never changes. Life is a lottery cage, what ball did you draw? Wait your whole lifetime to open your eyes. Only to find the dark has come all too soon. We all live in a disguise: our un-luck makes the whole world want to die. What if this is our only chance to get this right? Placing last in the trial run is never a good sign. And “next time I will do it better” just doesn’t seem to make sense anymore. Duel realities die and heads lie to hearts. We don’t even know where to begin. Ant is his ant farm wearing blindfolds and never looking back. Never seeing the tunnels collapse behind us.

Only one-way out.
And no returns allowed.