Photo by Elti Meshau on

I strike the earth with fury. Mountains crumble. Darkness falls. Where am I? From where have I come? Strength is fiction. Life isn’t real.

Stars fill the night sky, mocking me. My prison is inescapable. My strength is weakness against the walls of this hell. My life is nothing.

All my fury and all my rage amounts to little more than a screaming child unable to flee his crib. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.

This dome traps me in a place where true light doesn’t shine. There is no goodness. There are only ghosts of promises long since buried deep.

I scream in terror and pain. Why am I stuck here? Why does this hurting know no end? There is no company but the sin that haunts me.

Who will deliver me from this body of death?! Oh wretched man that I am! When will all come to an end? When will I finally fade from existence?

When will this fire inside burn hot enough to melt the walls of the prison keeping me from the truth of existence? I want to sleep, and to never wake.

There is nothing for me here. There is nothing at all. No meaning, no life, no love, no people. I’m alone, and I always have been. It will never change.

My mind plays games with rules that change constantly. I can’t win. I can’t escape. Can deliverance come to this very hell, where I die slowly and alone?

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