The Unquiet Heart
In a frenzied act, I shattered the ribcage, unleashing a torrent of blood,
a desperate attempt to alleviate the crushing weight of sorrow within.
Beneath the carnage lay the remnants of my heart, once whole but now in pieces. It lay there, torn open, ravaged, desperately gasping for life.
Its rhythm, once steady and resilient, had now dwindled to a feeble, desperate cry. Each pulse was a soft murmur of past regrets, incessantly haunted, craving liberation. In its silence, it screamed, yearning for just a fleeting moment of relief, yet such peace remained elusive, always just beyond reach.
The blood surged like a relentless river, brimming with my anguished essence, flowing through the devastated landscape of what remained of my soul. My very being toiled under the strain, writhing in its tortured existence, each movement a battle against the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.
Outside, the world that once gleamed with promise and radiance was now obscured as I drew the curtains closed. The darkness thickened, thriving on the burgeoning decay within. In this desolate visage, I dwelled, a spectral figure amidst the wreckage, forever chained to this fate, like a phantom haunting the ruins of what once was, resigned to the shadows, a final surrender to the abyss that had claimed my heart.
a desperate attempt to alleviate the crushing weight of sorrow within.
Beneath the carnage lay the remnants of my heart, once whole but now in pieces. It lay there, torn open, ravaged, desperately gasping for life.
Its rhythm, once steady and resilient, had now dwindled to a feeble, desperate cry. Each pulse was a soft murmur of past regrets, incessantly haunted, craving liberation. In its silence, it screamed, yearning for just a fleeting moment of relief, yet such peace remained elusive, always just beyond reach.
The blood surged like a relentless river, brimming with my anguished essence, flowing through the devastated landscape of what remained of my soul. My very being toiled under the strain, writhing in its tortured existence, each movement a battle against the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.
Outside, the world that once gleamed with promise and radiance was now obscured as I drew the curtains closed. The darkness thickened, thriving on the burgeoning decay within. In this desolate visage, I dwelled, a spectral figure amidst the wreckage, forever chained to this fate, like a phantom haunting the ruins of what once was, resigned to the shadows, a final surrender to the abyss that had claimed my heart.
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