###A Forefront Cry### It is boring here. At moments I am seized with a killing boredom and at times, I am excited to the core - in anticipation of a well digged fight with the enemy. The invisible enemy. May be I am pitied against time. Time is our enemy, isn't it? It is also supposed to be god, then... the immaculate healer... and what not. And for me this time, time is the enemy. If more time shall pass... my edges shall be chipped off. Like a nail being stripped of it's sharpness. Like a dew being over burdened with every passing moment of the maturing dawn. I am sitting here, in the chunk of the wall. There is a water dripping nearby. The liquid makes it cold at nights. My skin has become sensitive to these changes. I sometimes wish that this skin peels off. The flesh is better to manage. With the skin growing in, there is always a hope attached. But when everything strips down, there is nothing. A room for hope that is quantified as naught. I want the flesh to ooze out blood so that I lose the realm of time, even.
Seated in a Wall
Time... well.. it's passing by
POW # 84190310
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