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Giving up
I am peddling.
And as the suns beams become brighter
I go faster and faster.
I can’t see,
But I have faith.
I am peddling.
My breaths are shallow
And there is sweat coming down my face.
Faster, faster.
I’m trying to see.
I’m scared.
Losing faith.
I am peddling.
Becoming more and more unsure.
Fearful, of what’s ahead of me.
The blinding beams of the sun,
are no longer comforting.
Slower, slower.
Stop.
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