What's done is done.
But, as sure as sunrise and set, my day will come.
As certain as the changing colors of autumn.
As definite as the pumping and pulsing of that muscle in your chest.
But don't count on the latter,
I could attest to the dysfunctionality of your heart.
What about the rest of you?
What were you thinking?
The grey matter inside your skull must not be in proper proportion.
How could you?
Your guts aren't as glorified as you claim.
So stop clinging to that pedestal that you struggled to hang on to.
And realize that you've already fallen.
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