Falling

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A poem...

Under the night sky, I imagine what it is like falling. And
falling. Into an dark abyss of ink, onyx, obsidian further.
Further on, losing sanity that was never there at all. Still
feeling emotion, numb, dull, dumb at
life. Giving up in the end, rest in peace they say, with an
utter despair in which I am lost, lost forever, perhaps. It is unearthly.
At the peak. Looking up. Falling down. I fell from my highest of height.
Tears can't resurrect me. Red seeping into the catacombs, into minds. One
incident. One report. Losing one. Becoming none. Regret. The luminary
full of loathing. Of hate. For the curse of ignorance. The grandfather clock
sat, unaware of who death had stole from them. No return. Time against
medicine. Hope against fate. A tombstone will always wait. The
imagination suffocates. The coffin awaits. A dark reality under the night sky.

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