Day 6: Cultural marxism

The army of water strikes. Few snowflakes remain intact. The rest just make the colors wither.
Effort rewarded with pain. Pain followed by serenity. Pitches rise and rise. Drop, rise, drop, rise, rise.

The world lives through its limits and heartfelt disasters. To be alive is to run away from something. It is nice, it is all that it needs to be. A known tune. To tease the skin or the mind? Who knows, really rely?

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