As You Stare Into The Singular Window In Your Quarters You Start To Internally Monologue
The Meteor Is Crowded And Noise Fills The Voids Keeping Your Team Apart As If Rushing In To Fill A Hole Or Say A Crater
For A Moment The Arguments All Harmonize Into One Familiar Note
It Is The One Desolation Plays To Keep Its Instrument In Tune
You Are 8.5 Sweeps Old And You Have Been On This Meteor For Nearly Half A Sweep
Many Things Feel Missing From Your Life And The Game Is Perplexing You All Once Again
It Is Almost As If Fate Is Playing A Cruel Trick On You All Not For The Sake Of Whimsy Or Joy But For The Sake Of Showing You All True Absence And Lacking
It Truly Is A Mystery Comparable To The Stars And Moons Reflection In The Way That It Disappears AS Soon As You Slightly Begin To Grasp It In Your Thinkpan Like A Smooth Black Pebble Dropping Into A Puddle With Said Reflection In Its Surface
It Is The Most Diabolical Riddle Of All
"Of course I'll hurt you. Of course you'll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence means accepting the risk of absence." -Troll Sylvia Plath
Yes You Are Certain Troll Sylvia Plath Said That
In Fact You Are One Hundred Percent Positive
You Have A Feeling Its Going To Be A Long Day
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