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Except for me.

And my world comes crashing down.
But nobody cares.
Because nobody loses.
Except for me.
Nobody dies.
Except for me.
And nobody talks.
Not to me.
Not for me.
Not about me.
But my world still spirals.
Rushing and racing.
Wanting to end.
But never knowing when.
Crying at the sight of life.
Begging for the sight of death.
Knowing eternity is final.
Wishing it would end.
Envying the rest of them.
I weep.
I live.
I die.
But I breathe.
Think this is life?
This is just the beginning.
Think this is happiness?
This is only blindness.
Think this is availability?
This is only preparation for the next victim.
Do we all die?
Do we all even live?
Will we ever know?
Maybe this is a dream.
I just haven't woken yet.
Maybe this is a daze.
I just haven't been shooken.
Maybe this is a game.
I just haven't turned off.
Maybe this is a novel.
I just haven't put down.
Maybe this is life.
Maybe death.
I prefer death.
Yet it runs, I cry out to it.
"Come back..."
As my worlds turns.
Around and around.
We all do it.
Even if not consciously.
The earth does it for us.
For me.
Running.
Weeping.
Wishing.
To die.
To jump.
To pull it.
To bring it in.
To swallow it.
To let go of it.
To die.
And my world comes crashing down.





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