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Mood: Sigh... And now I just don't know. The uncertainty on which I'd grown to depend is begging to take effect. And the stones that I'd imagined fade away. Should I stay or should I go? Not of mind, but place. Of peace or good, truth. What I want, live; What they need, me. It seems that pain of those I need feed its laughter. Those doors that stood among the walls rust, but it isn't time that does the deed, but their own tears. Watery chains pull them away from me. The question becomes one of vagueness. A question no truth can answer. What do I do? Nothing. What I've always done, and what im pushed to do. Nothing. Still I stood on sandy fires, oases called me and seemed to lift me off the flames on winds of hand of arms of hearts. How soon those broke, how fast I fall. No matter, one more one less. Nothing. |