I snuffle noisily and swipe a sodden sleeve
across my swollen, drip-drip-drippy nose. How is it possible, think I to myself, that a world so blinding with golden promise can be shadowed by such persistent despair all in the self-same breath? Sunrise wars sunset, and I am so very weary. My eyes and heart are full to the
brim, near to overflowing with emotion barely constrained. One side of my mouth
tilts up, eager for joy, while the other corner folds inward, distrustful yet.
My shivery innards quiver with hope. But I am wary of beauty spawned from lingering pain.
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