Monday, 6 November 2017

Thrall

The melancholy mists roll in and begin to fog my mind. They make me wander aimlessly and lose my sense of time. My enthusiasm for life suddenly is obscured by all the haze, and so I shift and shamble as I slip into a daze. All my goals that were before me now have gone concealed, I let my body rot, fall down, and congeal. I'd lift my head and drag myself atop the tallest tree, from up there  surely I could see, if only someone was up there calling down to me.


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