Surrounded by the rubble of my life and the end of sunlights sweet kiss, I now accept life isolated and knifed by the stab and cut of the inevitable razors embedded in the storm of shadow whose tentacles grasp and will never let go.
What do you do then the floor falls in? Do you accept it or do you dig out? My floor is now a cocoon, an inescapable tomb where I am cradled in despair and exhaustion of lost love, life without meaning as a drone, and loss of self—an empty eyed doll laid aside to rot and sit forgotten in a corner.
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