It always hits back,
No.
Rather,
Gets fiercer.
Its always there
Changing shapes and forms
All haunting in one way or other
Either skull crushing emptiness
Or zooming through the black holes,
Till it reaches the singularity which is theoretically the end. But theory fails here, it doesnt end. Just continues at the highest level of discomfort.
Or its turbulent.
Turbulent tempest.
Powerful enough to break through boulders, let alone a puny mortal.
A mortal who makes no difference to the big picture,
A mortal going through phenomena not quite meant for the mortals, you see, as mortals are weak creatures. They break.
So did this one,
It broke.
But that was just not the end.
It was cursed,
Cursed to live.
Cursed to live with all shapes and forms of this pain. A kind that is too much, and the shell too weak. But accidents happen.
And this particular one is far too brutal, far too cruel for a mortal.
And so....
There are tempests
Black holes
Nothingness
Silence
Wails
Pain
Blood
Tears
And more that is yet to unveil.
All locked up where they shoudnt be.
All locked up in the mortal shell.
A cursed shell.
A cursed mortal.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts.
RandomA collection of thoughts and scribbles that haunt me, comfort me, confuse me or all.
