Sunday, 4 December 2016


In that respect it was all the same, we'd assigned positions and taken blame, we'd turned our lives inside and out again, we'd taken what life gave us and made lemonade from all the pain. We'd built stairs and walked up them and down again, between descents into madness and ascending back towards sane - of course we'd never found ourselves quite the same. Not since the day that man came, and brought news of winning that numbers game. We were just moths flying self-destructively at the fame, and now our lives were so empty beyond the vastness of our shame.

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