I wanted to be alone forever.
But before I could think, and almost against my will something happened and now--
Half of me is gone.
The sick muse's eyes glare weakly, piercing, accusing, begging, leaking darkness;
A sadistic higher power contorts my angel's brain.
I do not suffer the way he does,
Suffer though I might.
I am further and further from the people around me.
The happy voices are distant and blurry, the laughter jarring, irreverent.
Worldly things are gone for me, or fading fast.
All I think, all I see, taste, smell, breathe is the cloudy dark blue of his pain
And my own.
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