-Kahlil Gibran
A dream turned dark and twisted, shuffling and scraping through the night.
The groan of a rusted hinge, muffled whispering.
And in the distace, the far thunder of forgotten music, drifting like smoke through a wire screen.
Candy-apple nightmares, the stuttering, lonely fear of forgotten children.
And the steady, aching emptiness which comes from realizing you have simply been...
discarded.
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