Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
The end I seek, I cannot see from here
I do not know exactly what I’ll find
Or even if I can suppress my fear
To persevere through storms within my mind
I started this progression far too late,
Had spent most of my energy before
I realized my sat, unsteady state
Potentially, at least, led through a door
That I was scared to open, and had strong
Encrypted locks that I had fashioned.
My time is short, but oh! the road is long,
And it’s been long since I have felt impassioned.
I often doubt my struggle’s worth the price,
And wonder what life’s like when put on ice.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
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