Often going through strain.
How much is over-extension?
How much can I contain?
I feel like a lot of things I did was futile.
A lot of what I did was in vain.
"Eventually it will lead to something worthwhile."
At least that's what I hope to obtain.
The long-term goals I have seems so agonisingly distant.
Why does father time have to be so cruel?
"Can't there be less pain and more things that are pleasant?"
He doesn't give a nice answer to my useless mewl.
Suffer and endure is what I do almost every single damn day.
The flavor of that reality is extremely bitter.
It can be so so overwhelming that my tolerance goes away,
And leave the duties I have as a sister.
Even for a moment that's an awful thing for me to do.
We were already abandoned,
Treated like detested vermin too.
Why? What happened?
'Ugh, you knew what happened,' she thought, though she stared at that last line for minutes.
Emma put down her poem, popped a new wad of gum in her mouth, crossed her arms back in the railing, stared down from theold tree house towards the dress/suit shop across the street.
"When are you gonna stop looking down there?" Arch said.
"I dunno it's hard not to since its always present."
"I mean the long periods of time you keep leering at that exact fucking block."
'Nearly 2 months and counting, maybe we should have gone to the library instead,' Archie thought before going back to play poker, he quickly lost, "dammit."