Lost in the twisted cavern of a wandering mind,
her feeble ideas cage her in and depart.
Echoes of the voices that beat her down crash
against the walls. They keep coming back,
tormentors.
Decay drips slowly from the rotted branches of
impossible limbs, bars that hold her in.
How can they live in this absence of light?
If the trees were real, they would already be
dead…
But if they were dead she’d be free.
A rockslide falls heavily on her back as her
mind comes apart all above and below her.
The bitter taste of ginger fills the crack of her
mouth and the odor of death invades her mind.
Sanity returns for her, but too late.
Too late.
Her mind is a cavern and she has already caved in.
I love this. So so good.
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