going the way of so many others.
the nameless
faceless multitudes that have come before,
and will most certainly follow.
reaching for that one last straw,
the last chance.
the thousand to one shot.
the dream that lays just out of reach,
but seems to be doing nothing but simply getting away from us all.
until then,
the only thing left for me to do is to keep on writing.
what else is there?