She's bleeding tonight and all this fluid trickles out on this piece of paper and paints a mural of emotions. She doesn't feel a thing and yet this paper is encroached with brush strokes of blues and greys. This piece of paper is more eloquent than her malfunctioned senses.
Her heart pumps nothingness across her hollow interior. Your resonating lies reverberate and make their way into the bottomless abyss of her life. Tired of her mundane existence and a monotonous exchange of events followed by the insipid jokes of servile flatterers, death seems an interesting foe to make peace with.
Life was merely forged from the ashes of disappointment to provide assistance in making death easy for you, to prepare you for the inevitable. Armies of Resistance and rebellious bandits holding slogans of hope will one day be shrouded by the impeccable forces of the terrorizing death and they'll be cowered. They will be left ashen with fear. Their cause will be assimilated by the merciless pages of history.
Her eyes are filled with gloom and pessimism but she's aware and that's what makes her ahead of the curve. She can spot the gloom which the sun so furtively consumes and once you inhale the truth, there is no place left for transitory hope.
YOU ARE READING
Random thoughts
SpiritualSeclusion is a tactical gambit to earn absolution. It takes you Miles ahead of the conspiracies laid down by your sins.
