Torpor

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My spirit is weak and my mind weeps.

The hopes of this life have become daggers that have pierced my soul.

My wounds I fear are mortal.

My fractured heart has bled out, my veins have collapsed.

My essence is starved, craving the delicacy of life.

I feel the rot and decay of my soul within push toward the surface.

I cannot let this be.

I shall retreat within myself until the sun sets on a better day.

Will I find solace in the depths of my mind?

Shall I be consumed by the rot within?

Can a soul be revived?

Will time show mercy and heal me or cruelty and trap me?

Only Fate knows and she dare not tell.

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