In the land where random thoughts live, there wasn't any number 25. It died long ago, before all the other random thoughts had even born. It was the father of them all, but none of them knew.
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There was still a shining magic little light in her eyes. But she was always shutting them down.
There was nothing for her here. She left and tried another store.
We drown in words we never spoke. And our blood boils in our veins as we try to breathe.
Someone sang to me that words are only good for lies. Oh, but it is true we are drowning. It is true we are dying. Or are we dead already? There's nothing here to stay. Go now, run like hell. Me and the moon, it doesn't have to be beautiful.
Soon, in the morning, you, earth or ash: last shapes of never. It's not true he used to be a lovely boy. Pills, bittersweet melodies, flaming dreams in colour. Fiction, almost life. Half noise, good morning midnight. Everything went blank for a moment. He wasn't breathing. At least, he felt like he wasn't. Then, a thud.
When he opened his eyes, everything around him was white. He wasn't dead, after all. He was blind. |
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