I think and I think of the things that could be.
But the things that could be aren't reality.
For those things are but a dream.
And my reality but a nightmare.
Lurking in the shadows is a beast like no other.
Waiting and waiting to devour the light of another.
Wishing the light may shine through, like those of it's prey.
Although, the light devoured emerged only as decay.
Hopeless is the beast, for the beast is nothing but despair.
Longing to become more, for its reality is bare.
Bitter horror for those of its victims.
Paralyzed in the abyss of nothingness.
Indecisive, in a pool of self-doubt.
Trying to get out.
Faltering as life goes by.
Desperately, taking back the light.
Just waiting by and by, for the light to shine one more time.
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