Again and again it goes, the cry in my head to be emerged from the soil of then, as then, it was in the soil of now, and no good came of it. So now I lie shocked, watching the ruins of a structure decay as my old friends launch their spires’ constructions in its place. And all because of fear. All because I dreamed, but should first have dreamed of dreaming, and made the dreams’ fruition a possibility.

Others did not wait to steal my fantasy, and I should never have slept if I wished to win. But I was tired; wanted to sleep, so I did, and now I will never be happy.

I desired to be the greatest, but my axe was always stuck in the outer bark when I was incentivized to make my mark on the tree of life, and that time was the only time I tried.

But then I hear “Forget that!” and realize that still I do not heed the cry. I know I should, but the past holds, bound to me like we’re polymers in a chain.

I let the alarm chirp, bide my time; while myself away. Again and again it goes, but what do I care?

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