Studious

Oh how sudious is the mind in all its worry, always runing somewhere but never in a hurry. Like the woes from our wake, fictitious is the mind and it's space. The premise of mind is but a fake, an appeal to probability an anecdotal fallacy, a fairytale a daemon bate. "I think therefore I am" this knowledge dosen't make me any more of a man or help me understand who I am. Oh how studious is the mind in all its worry, always runing somewhere but never in a hurry.

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