| for_blather | ||
| Wasandru |
to you, i turned, for what i no longer know then as now, seeking either entrance or escape. perhaps i went about it wrong. there was no guide, so... i tried to send back out the things i had enjoyed taking in, this netted mostly ire, so now i shall stop. why bother? resignation is not a pity party, though the brash ire of a young spirit readily mistakes one for the other. there were no consolations upon these cold blue pages, but then, there seemed as if there would be no burning, either. but there is much burning. the men fight, on countless pages, for reasons unknown, in spite of the starships and in spite of the golfing. it will please the angry one to know that his sharp words hurt, after all. may it assuage his own raging emptiness to have visited sadness upon another, alone, alone they all are, kicking and flailing furiously i, yet another scapegoat, for yet another's misplaced despondence. (a_resignation) |
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