The End of Line

A state of thoughtfulness, indulging parity between peers, a constant regression that led me to where sense loses you. Arguing to stay intact, to overcome the diaspora of oneself, makes it all a gloom filled and saturated mask of life, the mask that will never have what’s needed to overcome the constant feeling of despondency. I walk feeling righteous, yet narcissism flowing through my veins. Yes, I feel narcissistic, why? When you catechize your own self, you get to realize your reality that sometimes might not often be visible.

Thousand moments of happiness and a few of despair, thousand things to love and a few not to care. A rigorous and constant abrasion of life, grinding my thoughts and again making me stand where I never wished I be, I am.

The heaviness of the mistakes, the regret of uncompliant moments, unbecoming of my own self, bewitching once, ugly now, me and my reality both lay on the ground, to be judged and to be ripped apart and thrown away. From a cherished one to an abomination, I became a devil in disguise. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, a sanction from hell, I burn where none would heal, I churn where none would yield.

I walk to justify the unforgiving, I walk towards the summation of my life. Cannot find the start of the line, yet cannot contemplate the end, I walk. I walk to let go of everything and to stop any more of the starts. I walk towards the stop that’s full and leads nowhere.

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