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Mar 2019
It's that potent despair.
Standing over a dead life.
Gone before the miracle appeared.
And mundane.
Some realization I'm not quite where I want to be.
Or as high as I'd like.
But tomorrow is a curse cast from my yesterdays.
Today is a wallowing disgust.
And, my past, an abomination.
Why am I alive.
Just to struggle through the hard bits and reward myself with sloth. I spend a lot of days staring at nothing.
Hours.  Just.  Passing by.
Written by
Nolan Bucsis  34/M/Somewhere in Canada
(34/M/Somewhere in Canada)   
126
 
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