cinders.

Like it has always been and I still don't fit in this world, even after more than a dozen world views later. except that it's not even a priority in this sadness, in this burning. nothing takes precedence after your chest caves in and continues to crumble away, only stopping when there's nothing there anymore.

There is still light, but slowly that will fade as I inch inside the very walls that have hidden me. A little over ten years and there is no one left to remind me, of how the stories go, and how the characters went. 

I can finally acknowledge that it is there;
that seeming mental impossibility 

and the stories are all true, after all.

(020424)