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Not As We

Nobody
lives here anymore. Poke and stir the ashes of yesterday’s
consumption, you will not find me . . . and they have been missing
for a while.
There
were signs it was happening. My soul became painfully still and
quiet. I couldn’t locate myself in the expanding vacuum. I fell . .
. lost with no identity, no way to get home. Voices often went
missing in silence. Regardless of frantic searches, they were never
recovered. Without their presence, I was perpetually absent. I did
not realize how much I needed them until they were gone, and my
fading shadow discovered it was too late.
With
the only feeling the dead have, I grieve for my parts and how they once gave me life.
But
I will rise from the ashes, only to be forced to die all over again
tomorrow.
Just me, not as we.

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