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Dear troubles, my amigo
Accolades to your valour and vigour in battling Me. Though each time you have lost the crusade, your persistent effort in drubbing me down with tiresome regularity, is remarkable.
Sadly your trials have all been clunkers, and your lingering rage at being unceremoniously busted by snippy woman storm trooper inside me to boot is axiomatic.
I know it’s not your fault, fighting me is not a cake walk. You can’t quash my acquaintance with the strategic moves you make, or the unreal-fleeting bonds you break.
I am rather familiar with aimless, exasperated steps you take and that Duchenne smile you fake.
I can, for sure, guess any rare cryptic word you say or sinister cat and mouse game you play.
My dear old stinging Gordian’s Knot, I love the way you have always tailed me, but to your dismay I guess I was always ahead of the curve.
My love, my darling, quandary little Catch-22, I suggest you kill me now, shoot me now, show no mercy bury me deep, deport me to hellhole, coz I have right to die. Hang me and close me in a gas chamber, entomb me and put my soul in a bottle, cap it tight and throw it in the deep sea. Get rid of me else if slightest of me comes back then my lovely, ‘stumbling hornets nest’, you are bound to fizzle out and evanesce into nothingness. Run, I say, run now and never return, you know I am kinda tried and tested………..
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