At the time of writing, it has been 612 days. I'm sure I'll stop counting one day.
the island has returned, though it never chose to leave. it was me; i told the land to recede. now we're twelve months gone. shouldn't i be righting a new kind of wrong? though it's funny how arrangements of zeroes and ones still keep me from moving on. i'll set my own pace at which i'll create a state of mind a little closer to great. i see nothing has changed, at least i believe that is how i would want things to stay. i'll save my own face, forget my mistakes, and hope that one day; you'll be replaced. you can't see to relate to the things that i hate about what we became. my childish ways; you say they make you ache. for the sake of fair play, won't you please just give me some space?
all rights reserved