They lead the way to change and the simplification currently occurring in my desperate brain shell.
Hopefully the sky won't turn red before I count to 11.
Many other things will, end, face, begin, return, and repeat once again.
I've done this before, I've felt this before... Repetitions.
Involuntary... Repetitions.
From a deserted past that has once again returned.
My inner thoughts desire your take hate me, to detest me, to destroy me.
Slowly, building up to the repeated event, a dead end.
A dead end.
Why do I do this? I don't know... All I know is that I'm tired of it, but this...
This is the only way I know how to do things:
To destroy them.
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