to a halt.

i feel.
the knot holding the string of glass beads slipping.
its not as tight as before.

and soon.
the beads will slip off.
one by one.
falling to the ground.
shattering their perfect spherical shape.
and it will never be perfect.
ever again.

i feel.
like a type writer that has jammed up.
stuck at a single word.
one word.
which makes it even more empty.
being stuck at nothing.

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