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_The sky is falling_— ashes in slow motion,   raining smoke laced with doubt. I’m trying to figure things out – trapped inside    of my mind, trying to map a way out. Time wears you down like a borrowed face. Money races laps around your mind—   and we’re all so deeply     invested in the chase. I think __locomotive__ thoughts—    every train of thought heavier than the last— but somehow, I keep losing track of time. But what is time,   if not something that’s never mine? We spend every second like a dime—   but not every moment     is worth the time. I dress up for someone else’s moment, tailor my soul to suit their life— wearing joy like it’s rented, hoping the fit feels right. Every mistake I remember from yesterday   becomes a brushstroke in the picture I paint today— a portrait of someone better   hanging up in my frame of mind. _And maybe, just maybe, there lies the real way to fit in._
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Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 10:22 AM UTC
The Chase and the Frame