If my words were enough to stop them from leaving then I would have written a never ending poetry with metaphors from the Greek mythology even if it meant for me to sacrifice myself to Goddess Medusa.
There's a shift in the matrix, An energy that's slowing everything down, But pacing things up too. Like I've bunch load of ideas and desires, But nothing is coming through, I heard we've switched time
Thing I realized/learnt in April: writing is still difficult and i don't really know what to do about it i want to give myself everything i want but i am scared that uncontrollable things will ruin it
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