Personal depression
over here on my end,
it's an existential fix.
Paging from the ether
is a joy that tries to seep through,
though I'll let it fade to naught.
"You're posture reads tired."
the clock has inquired,
as I contemplate global vibration.
This prophetic instinct,
it tells of no reason
to carve anything into stone.
I'm just a being,
who's limits are breaching
the pact to stay away from the cause.
My home I'll call this,
for now while I harvest
the strength to call on faith from the love.
With a new found meaning,
sacrifice is seeming
the only thing to break down the wall.
Even if it's just one more brick.
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