Do you feel cold? It's cold because tears froze you with stillness. But when the tears leave you dry, It's still because your muscles refuse to move. This ate at me and ate at me. Gnawed into my core, slowly eroding the last part of me containing any sort of willpower. I became the lowest form of human scum that dared to crawl from the pits of hell. My soul left. In its wake is everything left after a prolonged absence of light. Mold and fungi grew in its place infecting anything that once thrived. Yes I continued to live. Fungi is a living substance, but it feeds on the healthy, eventually killing it with despair. So there I stood. Darkness oozing out of my hollow eye sockets. Even blood contained too much life to run through me. Skin stretched tightly around my bones like crepe paper, left them vulnerable yet unbreakable. The demon I am now exemplifies a beautiful type of death. The living kind. So reach out, touch me. Feel the cold? Guess what? Me neither.


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