Weighed down by the travesties of the world, an unending spiral that claims me for its own. Cyclic in its beauty, days in which I parade my fleeting smile for the world to see, the world within my mind for I know no other. It ends, as all things must end, and yet I carry hope within me so deeply as if it is a child borne of my body and yet one never meant to leave until it dies within. Everything must die within.
I have died within.