Day XX

There was no mistake that this was a terrible mistake.

There is no time traveling to be done, no wishes to come true, and no magic to reverse things as of now. Perhaps only despair permeates through this dead-end, but even the fuel of emotions is not enough. They all do not work.

The fate of this world lies in their—no, our hands, yet these hands do not move. We have gotten so far, so infinitesimally close. Our efforts in vain, the feeling of being powerless grows stronger every moment, and time feels as much of a joke as a bad pun.

Exhausted. Unwillingness. In anguish.

. . .

Is failure the only option?