Itís a festering problem, one that has become very noticeable in my social circles. I laugh to think the marks and blood stained patterns could have been hidden forever, but thatís just the way I think. I run when I should rest. I unwind when I should sprint. Itís the pattern that every molecule in my body has been embedded with. Itís the notion in my skull hushing the development of anything contradictory. The reverse thinking can be seen in my underprivileged spine. The pitiful bones stretch to and fro, cracking and sputtering relentlessly hoping to be fixed upright once again.
ďOh sleeper wake upÖ
Wake up indeed. Let the wind rush through the soul and reach the moments hidden by various scores of hopeless day dreams.
Wake up indeed. The longer I sit, the longer I wait. Waiting for a table at a restaurant I donít even like.
Wake up indeed. Impressions and perceptions of my problem drift in and out, almost has if this waltz was staged from the beginningĒ
And maybe it was.
In forty winks Iíll be sinking with the waves once again. This is nothing new. This is nothing new. Iíve heard my soul sing this ďwake upĒ song before, and Iíve turned a cold shoulder to it yet again.
This waltz is nothing new. And you would think after ten odd years of dancing the same tedious, repetitive, lackluster dance, I would have become decent at it.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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