Withers

Feel like I am dying inside…like choking hard and can’t breathe right, may appear healthy on one day and falling sick, mentally, the next. Can’t stay focused, mind wandering, heart pounding even as I stayed lying down on bed. The world revolves and evolves yet all seem to be a mere illusion, nothing is real, nothing is for real.

Am reminded of the one I have never since forgotten, very word that springs up to me, every thought that sprouts out fresh in the morning and fading into the night. The moon changes its hue and brightness and shapes, I remain constant in dire straits, failing to change likewise. The stars shine fainting, fighting to light up in this brightly lit-up and rather densely populated city, that is however, experiencing a void, some sort of emptiness, or is it just me? Then the void of the city grows, feeding on the same vibes exulted by its occupants. Occupants or just inhabitants? Truly just a mere breath that exists now and will be gone soon, leaving not a tinge of a scent or feelings of any kind…slowly but surely dying inside and out… …

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