literature

Window

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Literature Text

I sit by this window and watch the world pass me by the constant torrent of conflicts and expression of joy that I do not get to indulge in. I only see what happens from the window the evolution of society. The constant wave of the zealot dismissing the flaccid, from my perspective the only engagement I have within the world is passive. Non-sense never reaching this window, leaving me void of any type of resemblance of a life.  Gratification never reaches me, never allowing me to immerse myself in the more self-indulgent emotions. The sanctity of the room with the window protects me from all the pervasive insects that plague the world. The window does not always provide a clear view, but a warped perspective of reality. I try, breathing hard, gridding teeth, slamming my bruised body into the window. The window is not only impossible to break, but it is an insurmountable feet. I grind and ingrain my body against the pliable window. But nothing breaks, just another mark, another mark in the dirty and smudged window of my future.  
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