Every Sunday greatness is turned in.
Every Monday I cry, I read yours then read my mine, then I cry.
But when Monday come around again, so does my tears.
Why is this?
I want to tell you to stop, but I don’t. I want to keep reading. I want to get better.
And I do!
But I guess so do you, because every Monday it is the same.
Bittersweet.
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