As people rush through the traffic,
That life has become,
I have become motionless,
Unable to go through the motions Of daily endeavours,
Just being able to get through The next minute and the one after that,
Tomorrow is a dream,
A bad one,
That promises to be painful,
In the emptiness that it carries,
That dreadful vacuity,
Which engulfs like a massive towel,
Wringing life out of a soul,
Leaving it dripping with nothing.
Not even a pulse twitching,
To at least confirm that,
A heart beats,
And a soul lives.
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