Hold on Wait I already have to much on my plate Can't go on Not at this rate I'll inevitably be crushed by the weight I'm on Rebuild eight At least my life doesn't ever deviate Will stumble upon Checkmate Continuation impossible in this state
Under the mango tree where the shade is dark and deep she waits with years on her skin.
The face though weary with the burden of time has not yielded to the fate of having once loved and lost.
She believes the winds from the barren field will one day carry the rustle of footsteps raising a song from within earth that the moment is arrived for the dead river to rise in tides and flood her cheeks with the sapplings of all the unplanted kisses.
When the nights come the fireflies would sing love is such a beautiful thing basking in the glow of her heart.