Always flowing down an angry river.
Taking time away despite there something to intend.
Fate always rushes by.
Given no moment to react or adapt to the current.
Expressing no mercy to industry and advances.
Or as it seems to be.
There is no way of knowing.
Draining and degrading and always dragging,
With no sign of remorse visually or mentally
And It all happens even with a set.
The parasite clings onto with prejudice
And doesn't favor.
Always pushing back with a consequence
Without holding back or restrain to reserve.
with a need to reroute but it will follow.
Never letting go. Never know if it's aware
of its own animus.
Forever it may echo and linger subjectively.
And always longing to converge Pensively.