Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I hear the water cry out my name.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
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YOU ARE READING
A Prose With No Direction
SpiritualA prose with no direction. A mind with no guidance. A human without a purpose. That is the kind of story I hate to be. That is the kind of story I, unfortunately, am.
