You really don't know when the end comes, the end of anything. I felt everything I needing to feel, craving to feel and it's sharp heel digging into my skull, I never asked, but was worthy enough for it. Like a pale ghost I am, I never thought my memories could be so human-savages gnashing through my flesh and mind-and when all fails, there never was a fatherly, heavenly sublime. I sit here fighting, thinking I never got a chance to say I love you after too many times I did.You always talked about you and for so long, I waited forever only to ponder my end, everyone's end, but mine especially. I would've loved them, loved God, but there's always something that compels me and makes the eyes return to the end. Not my eyes. The End's.


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