Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Get thee gone.... hope, you deceiver!

There's darkness around. Hope is absent. Strange... the numbness that creeps up my fingertips and touches my heart only intensifies the pain when I see how I have failed... I have fallen and cannot seem to rise. Let alone, stand.

Fare thee well, harbored hopes of mine... painted harlots that I can least afford. I banish ye from my sight. The drunken eyes well painted.... let me not be swayed any more. I cannot afford to break again... for the next time, I shall surely die.

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