Resignation.
I don't know what this is:
Lincoln could turn around and look, but he knows those footsteps so well that he doesn't need to. He knows their rhythm, their weight, and he knows where they're headed.
There's nothing but fog before him, and the sun trying to burn a hole through it all just to make it truly feel like mourning. Look, the rest of the world is beautiful. It's just you. Just you.
I seem unable to write or think more than a few sentences of anything. The above took half an hour. I give up.
Lincoln could turn around and look, but he knows those footsteps so well that he doesn't need to. He knows their rhythm, their weight, and he knows where they're headed.
There's nothing but fog before him, and the sun trying to burn a hole through it all just to make it truly feel like mourning. Look, the rest of the world is beautiful. It's just you. Just you.
I seem unable to write or think more than a few sentences of anything. The above took half an hour. I give up.