even amidst the monotonous strife, ill just wait over something new. and upon the humming and the bustling and the restless toll, everyday a new a sunrise prepares himself. but how for can i wait for anew if the morning calls awake and ready. so i place myself in the same rut, in the automated routes, constancy of voices, the requests of many and the drive of the few.
unending multitudes running the same paths, though never home and never satisfied.
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