The crumbling hold of all my sympathies runs its course. The fade of a long expired effort towards the plan of the next thousand days. Lost to the groping manifestation of motivation. An empty gesture sent as listless at the backward glance and unknown to the others. The noncommunicable challenge of the day. The burning rush of the prolonged battle. A rush of a few dozen failures seize the minute minute moment of a long sigh when seeing them.
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