I feel a new beginning arising and if you know what that means... well then you have an idea of what life is about, mainly. The end of an era is crashing onto my shoulders like spines on the most fragile skin, piercing the endlessness of optimism. Nothing lasts forever, maybe that's the lesson I must learn.
My inner self is tormented by this urge to do something, just because I don't have enough strength to carry on. Such as a wise song once said, "standing still could be the best move you ever made".
Like chains on my throat, swords in my chest, rocks at my feet... I can't move...
I don't feel sorry for anything. Just for the fact that people around me who love and care about me feel the effects of my state of soul. But if they want to, they'll wait 'till I'm done.
Don't hold me, don't feel sorry for me, don't even try talking to me, it'll prove pointless in the end. Let me be and be glad if you get to see me a moment or two out of my shell. It's the most I can bear.
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