Nonsense gibberish and chatterbox lies, this is the fate of inconvenience as it waits for introspection. The tossing and turning of an unsound state of awareness ensures a pensive earthquake in the center of the mind. The hold of intuition loosens, and the understated grasp falters in the face of serene abandonment. It is a cruel and lonely ache, devoid and inert; an ill-timed frustration of the recompense.
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