Binded by the fated red thread
Are my fingers and my fist, unified
Amidst a battlefield of broken tupperware
And wasted food
A match made by Lady Luck herself:
My daydreaming brain
And a vending machine drink
Right next to the one I had wanted
My ears yearn for my headphones
Despite the poor fit and pains
As momentary pleasure is addictive;
Alas, the headphones were left back at home

You need to write more poetry.
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Aw, thanks, Derek. I think I’ll try to do it more often since not everyone is interested in visual novels.
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