Simplification shifts from an equation, into a philosophy. Zen drops around me like a misted veil. I treat a sanitarium angel with respect and composure. She alternates between quiet screaming and deafening sobs. I watch with concern and offer a scarred shoulder for her to use as she sees fit.
She chooses to leave. I watch her go. And fall into step beside her, again.
I am sad at the death of a resurrected dream.
10:17 p.m. - 2016-09-21
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