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Aug 2014
Tick,
The sound of a keyboard being abused by angry fingertips.
Tick,
Subtle sounds of the air conditioner creating frigid conditions.
Tick,
Fluorescent lights fill the room, revealing nothing but normality.
Tick,
Bashing my brain with stupid questions, clingining onto sanity for dear life.
Tick,
A phone rings, a melancholy mind state is to follow.
Tick,
Tick,
Tick....
****, at least I get paid.
Written by
William McDaniels  Springfield
(Springfield)   
536
   Musfiq us shaleheen and SPT
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