Former glory.
Stumbling down
the winding stairs
that leads into darkness.
Silence.
Your screams bouncing
off the concrete walls
like how Past
echos in your hollow self.
Discernance.
Grappling the wisps of wind
slipping between
your fingers
as you descend
into the abyss.
Decadence.
Immersing in the symphony
of your screams
and the bang of the
spine shattering impact.
Disintegration.
Seeing ivory
before your eyes.
Hearing white noise
buzzing in your ears.
Life.
A blank piece of blank paper.
The Beginning.
The End.
Dreams.
The artist with a paintbrush.
Fabricated Fantasy.
Resonated Reality.
