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You like picking open sores.
While the quietness of your home gives you a sense of completion.
A life well spent, within your years.
Liberation from a body; liberation from a cage.
Never knowing, always wailing.
The bile eeks its way out.
The whispers are diminishing.
You, falling, the curtains sway with every breath you take.
The painful choices...
And you think about how it is absolutely terrifying to be alone.
But ready the stars,
The last light and now the dark,
...Of the masks you wear in this world,
I have one built called "Infinity."

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