Development

Water just boiled.

You drank too fast and burned your tongue.

You cursed.

All were swept on the floor.

That which once meant so much is a leaf turned over.

Friction terrifies you.

Loneliness and void become you.

You take in so much that you want to become normal.

Intangibly, things are undergoing atrophying.

Thereafter you took the trash to disposal.

You start a fight. You run away to a concentration camp.

What a destination.

You can share your survival with a burbling tone.

But you reek of desolation.

You saw him. Dark horse met a white horse.

You walked away for fear of quicksand.

You are wrecked.

The night is closing in.

You wander along the beach.

“Lock me up” you scream,

The key is hurled, along with insecurity.

There goes the shooting star.

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