Write anymore, think straight anymore, find moderation or joy anymore.
It's like I've derailed, a train on its side meant to go somewhere, but all the coal is just burning me up instead of powering me forward
Passion is now a fantasy both emotionally, and physically. The ticking clock has stopped pushing me forward the second hand just ticking away the minutes feeling like repetition..
I can't remember the last thing I counted down for
Maybe I'm lonely, maybe it's the lack of inspiration because of the lack
of social life, maybe I don't belong here. Maybe my path in your life this far is over
you're home now.
But I'm not.
Maybe the train has an Alice clock that's ticking forward regardless of being off the rails. Maybe it's time to get off the tracks
maybe you're not supposed too
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