I had walked this street many times before, yet it looked like a ribbon of moonlight I hadn’t noticed before.
The wind was torrent of darkness and the moon was set for the depths of weariness.
The white light looked like a ghostly galleon with a knife at my withered neck.
It was all over.
Fading away into the atmosphere, for what seemed like being engulfed by the foreseen,
The brilliance of despair shining in my eyes.
I walked through night after night, yet too brave to admit that I ached all over.
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