Every word he wrote on the paper was a bucket full of holes
Making them equally as worthless at holding anything inside
Perhaps he should just give up now and save the time and effort
Though it did make the lifting of each one easier in its own way
Yes, maybe he would haul of them into place now since it was easy and spackle it all together during rewrites
Eventually the tiredness had to break, right?
No way he could be this tired for this long.
Everything seemed such an effort, even blinking!
Reaching for his sixth Monster, he pounded it back.
Going to be a long shift tonight. Good thing he had a twelve pack.
Yet he wondered if that would be enough.
Looking through sheet after sheet of code and information, trying to find his traces
As she peeled back the Tor “onion” server
Yielding few results from her computer forensic investigation
Everything was a matter of time, though
Ridding all traces of her initial hack of the system was well worth the effort
So the things she left behind would point an arrow only to him
So tired the effort to keep my eyes open is herculean
Here I am trying to pull the trigger on this deal
Opportunity doesn’t knock twice they always say
That’s why I’m going to slug it out
Questing for a sign to do the right thing
Unsure where to put an effort
Instead your hands sit in your lap, wet with tears
Everything is so wrong you want to scream
Terrible as that is, you can’t bring yourself to even do that
Languishing in self pity you don’t do anything
You meekly go into that goodnight