THE GROAN OF DEPLETION.

It struck hard, weighing down every breath, and making everything impenetrable. Which it needn’t have been. Stoicism devours slowly but surely, there’s no enchantment, @SacAnalog is merely encompassed by never-ending anger and despondence. SO WHEN THE DARK POEM WAS CAST, THE BLINDSIDE WAS FELT. | It makes the ailerons fall, and the languor is immeasurable. And makes us not serve those who do not precede-interest in manners.