Every direction
The web of choice glitters before me.
Each strand tickling my mind in a memory of what could be.
The future in every direction seems apparent.
And whats the fucking point.
The web of choice glitters before me.
Each strand tickling my mind in a memory of what could be.
The future in every direction seems apparent.
And whats the fucking point.
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While I know that there is indeed a point… There is no ****ing point.
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