Fight vs. Survive

Every morning presents a new rise, a dawn to an unknown reality, basically, we all are low waiting to mature to the high, slumber was sweet as dreams unless you had nightmares.
Thinking of my past and the broken promises still haunt the trust I tend to give out, the pie slices grew smaller as I crumbled to the intense pressure and just as the bread crumbs you can see my fallen pieces.

We ain’t getting any younger, age is limited by the distance between those before and after you, picture it as you reference the logic of time zones.

The beauty about light is that there is growth, call yourself a seed if you have a past you sprouted from.

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