In the already messed up nature of the world, she couldn’t find a Drop Of life.There was nothing in the pond, Nor on the shelf in her closet. Nothing.She stood alone in silence. Isolated. She never sat, because she had too much to do. Too much to say, produce, perform, to care of, too much to think, to be, to laugh about, cry for. Velvet rain would drip from the sky and it’d cut her. Pierce her elastic skin and pop it. She would still be alive, But would never be able to sleep. Somehow that seemed worse, she wanted to live Underneath the earth’s floor. She could spend the rest of her time there. Following a road map that she thought was engraved Into trees, except it wasn’t. The map was a myth, Life wasn’t real, And the silence she stood it, she collapsed in. Sitting at last, She sat and decided that she never did live, Only survived up until hat moment when she Fell.
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