School
Our souls get worn out with perfection. Does perfection cease to not co-exist with our living. Another day, another night, another day to go on the fight. Struggling through those waking hours, yearning to create something of worth. Pushing away the night for words that can't fill my lines. Everyday, shuffling through, let the mind fill us with deceit, but no matter how many times we tell ourselves, "we're not tired", we will eventually be.
i'm tired.
let's hope my soul gets some sort of peace during mass later, before artfriend, and beginning another day of work. tentatively, 4 more days.