The Decay

The decay has been happening. There is a place within me that aspires to be but is not nourished. There is a decay of my soul as it sings it’s last song on love. There is a decay of unwanted wants. There is a decay of a lost song bird. 

The decay is a broken door that can’t be shut. The decay is what it is and what it isn’t. 

When the clock strikes thirteen, it’s evident there is no more real world. The decay is in the dream world. 

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