Raindrops patter against my window, as I listen to Pink Floyd. Just another ordinary day and yet on the inside I smile. And not because I have achieved anything worthy of self accolades ( No, two journals is almost measly considering how much more I need to read, and then process). Sometimes, life itself just makes us smile with glee.
Moths to a flame
The addictive intoxication of nostalgia, Leads many to the path of doom. Time and time again, they succumb, Flying into the Flame. Like moths, their insides burn, And their wings sing. They fall befuddled, Wondering where they went wrong.
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