The mysterious woman, a short story with no particular rhyme scheme.
It's hard sometimes
Thinking about all the whys and the hows and where do I fit in?
But you know that everything is relative, in Einstein's universe.
It's hard
Not having any passion about anything at all.
I wish I had a hobby.
I wish I could relate.
I wish that I could find something or someone in this world that I could hate
Just so I could feel it.
I'm just so bored, of all the bullshit, this neutrality.
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