Duration

It’s there.

Every.

Single.

Day.

It won’t leave.

Sometimes visible.

Other times a recalled memory.

Other times anticipating the next time.

Content, in its ignorance.

Happy, in its arrogance.

Loving, in its falseness.

Like a brick wall.

It won’t be moved.

Chipping away at it is futile.

A cross to bear.

For the duration.

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