20 minute cycle.

Driven, full of spunk and passion

the die is cast.

A smile leaves, gloom awakens a depression

for this next round of time.

 

My tears wash away my face

nothing is left but a canvas.

The next roll I embrace

my new hat one of hope.

 

The endless list of choices

floods my very senses.

My ego is full of voices

but I understand not the meaning.

 

If only I could act naturally

wait which one said that.

To die is to live sporatically

for as long as the die falls, the stories multiply.

 

 

 

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