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Abstract

50">The spark of hope to survive, stamped out by the reckoning of a misunderstanding.</p><p id="3098">All the resistant parts assembled and exasperated. Left situated in front of the persist excuse.

Rummaging through the disorganized game. A scheduled waste of time.

My scream is as good as a whisper. As I am playing a game that is already over.</p><p id="e99c">Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, you might also like</p><div id="8c1a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-road-9bed1fb1e0fd"> <div> <div> <h2>The Road</h2> <div><h3>Parallelization from Devastation</h3></div> <div><p>medium.c</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*rXwgPKCZ782olhJ-)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="7b76" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/lost-memories-2b65f0

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Game Over

Born to lose — Determined to win — A poem

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

I lost my way to say hello. Too much of a coward to say goodbye. Not until the last disappointment.

I am the indecision of a half story. Ball rolling, determined to win. The story only shows the way to lose.

Compromising with sanity. Trapped inside a fallen way. Constant paranoia from the faces of animosity. Forced a noose around my neck and demand I show respect. The mental corrosion almost feels like serendipity. The heart bounded until docile and jaded.

Lunges limited by inconsolable honesty. A fake smile that is addicted to moving on.

The spark of hope to survive, stamped out by the reckoning of a misunderstanding.

All the resistant parts assembled and exasperated. Left situated in front of the persist excuse. Rummaging through the disorganized game. A scheduled waste of time. My scream is as good as a whisper. As I am playing a game that is already over.

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