What ingredients will make tomorrow?
Will the sun rise to shine on a relapse of last night’s regrets?
Decisions change as often as light flashes across the optimistic sky.
So why is this always the excuse? it always sounds the same, makes the most sense in the middle of a  war that raged between self and self. This could become anything,
From tedious labor to passion bleeding out through pores that profit
The outside more than any selfish desire could dream.


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