it was hard to tell what it had been just a pool of blood and gore plastered to the side of the road another failed crossing? or perhaps a suicide? success or failure are often hard to divine is that my destiny? it seems pretty bleak that’s the stuff I’m made of animated flesh and bone spilled and spoiled all dreams and aspirations flattened by a truck
I’m stumbling from crisis to crisis with no clear outcome in sight but I’m not defined by my problems I rise against the wind and swim against the tide I rail against my fate I will not be denied through inertia or assuaged by momentary pleasures I refuse to be another sudden impact I want to leave something more than a stain in the road behind
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