If you wait five more minutes, something amazing might happen. Or it won't. But maybe it will. Like the avenging of a wrong, remembering something forgotten, or the silent scream finally heard.
In those five minutes, the mind is so loud and powerful. If redirected, success it surely will find. But locked inside that hostile raging uterus, the hatred grows wild as a field of milkweed.
Five minutes go by. Maybe five more. What keeps them waiting for these granular momentary fulfillments that are nothing but superfluous. Feeders of a hungry ego. Living towards a tired limelight.
Still, five more minutes. For what?
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