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Portrait of An Insignificant Man
He slips in through the cracks
His figure absent of light
He watches as a man sleeps
And observes his every breath
He knows what he has done
But not one word escapes his mouth
He only stares into the oblivion
His life has slowly evolved into
This body that lies in front of him
Once so reminiscent of youth
Now a pile of putrid dung
Filth encased in broken skin
He knows the face, but is confused
Those eyes....that hair.....
All so familiar, but WHO is it?
He reaches far back in his memory
Exploring the depths of his mind
Wait....no, it can't be......
A sudden chill overcomes him
The man is......is he himself
He puts his hand to his mouth
Tears well up in his eyes
He claws at his face
His nails dig deep into his cheeks
This isn't a nightmare.....
This is no plain night terror
The man in front of him is bleeding
He starts to feel faint....
His vision is going out.......
One last heavy heave of that chest
And now the blood has stopped
The man's face has gone pale
He feels like he's being suffocated
Then, nothingness......
The dark abyss has sucked him in
He is no longer...
He is merely a discarded thought
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