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Self-Preservation: The Celtics are Playing at the Garden

Updated: Nov 11, 2022

To the victor goes the spoils


The hungrier one always gets it.

He hasn't eaten for years, inflation is up, taxes higher, wages low, and every perspective afforded to the average is higher at the medium. The comparison of the two holds true.

His mother named him Courteous, his father, Industrious. What he chose was up to him, depending on the trajectory and the energy he gave in the spectrum of the Sun and the Torch. A simple human being.

His heart was pure his intentions the mirror image of his heart, but his mind interferes.

Quietly he sits elevated below the meek, above the weak, to silently speak loudly in solemn hymns, proudly.

His silence has peaked. In words he must employ to speak, words gathered in sentences to preach to choirs what was afforded to each. Common sense.

But why does his heart beat like a monastery and his actions move like a ballerino, graceful to deliver scintillating effects to the grand arena.

From the day he was born, his mission became clearer, to bring humanity to life and to steer clear of bushes in the front and rear.

The championship draws nearer.



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