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MoM mission 35 Part 3 (final)Location: Inside the Wheel bar
"See ya later... or not!" The shadow pressed a button on the watch
"No wait!" Kristine tried to stop it but in a flash of light it was too late... or so it seemed.
Location: somewhere in the swamps
"Hahahahahahaa..." the shadow laughed
"The power to travel through time in my hands! I would be now the most powerful Abyss monster ever with it. now lets see..." the shadow thought long about what it could do.
"I know! if I go take care of that claw guy before he takes over those melding mercs!" the shadow looked at the watch
"now... which button do I use? ... eh I'll try this one" it presses one button and in another flash of light she disappeared.
Location: Back inside the Wheel Bar
The shadow ended up back at the exact moment it left. "Huh!? what the hell am I doing back here"
Kristine looked at her with determination "either you came for a real fight or you pressed an undo button"
"UNDO BUTTON!? who the Hell puts an Undo button on a ti
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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