There are nights
I wish that the world would end
that I could slip between the cracks of a broken earth
spiral into a depth of dark and damp and cool
have my eyes eternally closed,
away from all the wind and the storms and the sadness.
“You have not caused this”
I whisper excuses to myself as I sit before the altar
sacrificing time for the quick relief of becoming dust
begging silently for whoever runs this place
to let me sleep until a new sun forms,
until my breath is once again needed to sustain you.
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I have those days as well, but we have to keep moving. You expressed that gloomy feeling perfectly.