For soon the lines run off the page...
5 A.M and I never called back to retrieve my mind.
What
a mess I am as I scoop up my things and realize that I don't have any
more room in my memory bank to cram the thoughts of the material that
made me who I am in. The things that had always lingered long after their
passings are now lost till another sense detector experiences the spell
that was merely semi-lasting. Everything I seemed to know now diminishes
before my eyes.
Go on and enter the bottomless quarry to retrieve your stories.
You must be brave.
For soon the lines run off the page...
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