This is a game of chess and sometimes you got to make sacrifices. Every move means something. Whether you regret it afterward or proud of what you've done. There's nothing you can do about it.
And now we play the waiting games with the silver silences, Personal circle of thoughts and gutless hints. I'm subjecting you onto my ponderous nonsense. I can't force these eyes to see the end.
And I'm sorry too. I don't know how to make it all better.
Cho lau hon mot chut.
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