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When journey calls, what will you bring? How will it treat you? |
| As you wake up on a Saturday unknowing of what the future is you pack your bags, and embark on a mission, possible doomsday you stand up, a needle pierces your sole yelling in anguish, you stumble and tumble quite the omen, have mercy on your soul a journey so dangerous, precursed by pain one would be scared, riddled with disdain opening the fridge, everything has rotted that includes that apple you desired on an empty stomach, you showered tragically enough, with little shampoo you even slipped on the floor, what a klutz today could not get any worse, is what you figured putting on your coat, two of its buttons fell off walking outside of your apartment complex revealing the city of New York, wanting to take off all of your plans came to an abrupt halt when just like in the cartoons, men holstering a piano accidentally dropped it, and flattened you making one question the plausibility of it all. Line count: 24 |