Each day passes by like the nonchalant hands of a rusted old clock.
tick-tok-tick-tok-tick......
Nothing happens.
Resonating silence with an occasional blank stare
Looking at the oblivion.
This oblivion beckons.
Just like a warm baked apple cinnamon pie.
A comforting and soothing lullaby.
Maybe falling is the answer.
Embrace the darkness like my own flesh and blood.
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