The Quivive of a Madcap
The amazement of making progress within the captivity of prospective has sour
sliding of reasonless existence. Like talking in a box of profound feelings that
alerts the man passing by with a blocked look on his face. Diving for desperate
vanity that breaks the selfishness of the moment. It makes for a justifiable place
in time, to complicate simplicity in the needs of annoyance and chaos. Betting on
the day, where brindled personalities wave their hands to the sound of empty
beats of madness.
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