Our Graceful Lady

Wherein the denial conquers the final of us all. The moral obligation to comfort the rolling ball from the roadside. Near to collide with the oncoming traffic, a graphic scene. The obscenity paving the pendulum swing, which brings the crashing erosion of his heart. The start of the end. The depending croon, upending the speculation of grave expectations, far too great to live up to. They must give up soon. Felicitations, dear friend, you’ve completed the undesirable. Every mile, adds guilt to the disgraceful sensation excavating his soul. The pot hole acts as an inanimate contributor, to the adjustment of the cars roll. The death toll in single digits, the evasive inspection form a dodgy perspective with not much to see. Dilapidated pixels obstructing the evidences validation, the victims aggravation unable to relent. The judge condemns lack of proof in his spoof attempt to achieve his respected record of injustice. It must end like this.

You must understand the situations worst stems from the thought of misreading patience in the presence of silence.

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