What
is this, this viscous liquid I’m drowning in, something dark and opaque, I cannot breathe—
What is
happening, I cannot see, I cannot hear, it feels so fake yet it’s horrifically real, like a dream from which you woke up screaming but your eyes were never closed—
What is wrong
in the world that it must burn so, so cold, is it so slathered with gasoline that one match will light, explode, have we accepted this, are we okay that this is so—
What is wrong with
the people around me, do they not hear the cries, the screams, the sorry ends and brutal means, the blood and tears, where are the innocent childhood fears, do they not know—
What is wrong with me?
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