I wake up sweating; it was just another torture. A dream inferior same as pipe dream, every dream dies a little but, who do you call when dreams fold back? I swear my dreams were a ton, so I left them out to the sun and stones to dry out like levers fallen from a dying tree.
The thought of not being good enough, less fortune and can't make good out of the negativity, not to speak about how I tend to concession my life over someone's else, anxiety has taken place in my world and the life full of misery
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