/lit/ - Literature

>>18612020
Holding your hands it's a miracle it happened this way. Guiding my approach to you is if navigating was a subject for the liberal fool. An immaculate over-sensitization of an enigmatic hormone that comes to my lips as, "I love you." Paired with an injustice of two separate outcomes. One walks left while the former takes the road. Now in 2020AD there is nothing left to guide me. I'm a yearning soul dreaming of hypocritical conclusions to my bitter decisions. Trapped in the body of a soldier that just lost his war. For neither side could declare a victory, but a loser remained. Stuck in the past, blinded by the future, no fate has come to grip. For fate is a wish, a wish a shan't take.