If everything's dying, why can't I?
Everything is dying, turning black and dull. Recceeding to nothing but ashes, broken hopes, trampled dreams, forgotten souls. No one's complete, no one is happy. Everyone is angry, or sad, or hurt. The world has turned ugly, there's no beauty in sight. Everything is overturned, broken, lacking hope and love, and writhing with hate. War surrounds us, disease, violence, and tragedy. Not a single happy moment could save this pathetic race we call humans now. Everyone's dying, falling to the ground. Wilting, drowning, suffocating, it's all the same. Death surrounds those who fear it most, who try and try to wish it away. They go first, one by one. Falling to the ground as rotting, ugly corpses. Only once you lose something, do you see it's true nature. The ugly, hateful beings that reside in their interior. Only those who wish to die most, are the ones that survive, going unseen, being left behind in this hell. Death has a way of making us suffer, and it's way for me is to abandon me in it's eternal hellfire, leaving my behind in this dreaded hell I call home, or with the lying, vain people that I call family. As I stand in this hell, ragged and alone, I watch as silent as ever, not being seen, as everyoone I kno, and care for or could care less about, wither away, and drop dead to the cold, barren ground.
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