I've sat in this empty room, while time unravels wounds. I tried to burn away my regrets, but the ashes of my memories don’t forget. They regroup from stagnation; then, soon attack me, without hesitation. My eyes are weak, but Ignored goes my misting. Indulged by pain, comes the incredible twisting. Like a sponge being rung to dry. My thoughts can’t help but to bespeckle, and the loud sound of burning fire – the giant roar, was my heckling.
I heard and felt myself, which has never happened before. The internal squeezing is so painful that I collapse and feel the floor. It’s obvious I yearn for the anguish to subside. No fool would want this hybrid mental and physical perpetual turmoil to haunt them. Perhaps some sort of deviant masochist, but I’m not one who finds pleasure in my destruction. I’m humble enough without the need to degrade myself.
I’m on the losing end, and I know it. His hands are always going forward, but I’ve only regressed. I thought the clock was my only friend, but he’s been my enemy my whole life. How can I fight an intangible idea? I can’t. And the one thing I can’t control has complete control over me. I wish you would open the door, and put your arms around me to vanquish this pulsating ball of despair. Alas, I will wait, until I meet any end I can.
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