I think this'll be a five part story. There's a clear pattern as you can see. It'll turn out positive, promise!
I’m stepping through the hurting mist, walking, wandering, eyes distant, searching for what respite I know beyond.
As I look back through the fog, the sad light of the infinite shines so bright, that I can focus. But only on my guiding light.
Perhaps I must find another way to her.
As my cold fingers rustle in my pockets, I’m unsure of my purpose, they of their will. My thoughts run amok in nightmare panic.
I’m starting through a grey dream, walking, wandering, hands shaking, wondering of an end to my time.
As I roll my thin fingers around, a Braille star-map of the cosmos pulses so strongly in my hands, that I feel hope. But only of my heart in pieces.
Perhaps I must endure the starkness of time.
Are you a writer? Want to share the pieces what you've written?
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