Completely devoid of colour, she peers down upon us. Winds rise and fall; with human voices as leaves....chattering and falling, piling like corpses. Searching for answers to questions you can't even define. Observation proves to be both a gift and a curse. Filled with a sense of confusion, an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach. This void has no satisfaction, and it reminds me of this fact every night. They make me sick. And the pain of it refuses to cease. Nothing is ever done. Picking life apart before it can be lived. Each situation dissected and dismissed. Left cold and redundant, trapped within this self-propelled cycle; motivated by fear. And likeliness is against you.
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