Pressure Speedings
Path is narrowing itself, limiting my urge to escape. I'm losing sane, crashing ends. Sometimes, I just wish I could wake in a land nobody exists, plant some crops, count some stars. If I could hasten my pace, I might see less. If ever, though.
I witness human greed, so much that warmth slips far too much.
Smile is an expression of happiness, or a mask for grievance? I questioned the Great.
The path of certainty became so vague. Blurred vision screening for exits, instead of sensible paths.
They say I have nothing to gain no more, why do I still question? Human greed or Crashing Ends?
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