Wednesday
It gets worse with each passing day, the mental turmoil, the determined disorder in my mind. The devil and the deep blue sea, both urging me towards them, coaxing me with soft lies.
The words that hurt, the thoughts that agonise the already weary heart, could never come at a worse moment.
The rainbow is gone. And with it, the mythical pot of gold.
The words that hurt, the thoughts that agonise the already weary heart, could never come at a worse moment.
The rainbow is gone. And with it, the mythical pot of gold.
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