Melancholy by Fatma AlSumaiti

Darkness pokes at my every corner.
The silence around me has never been more alive.
Is it possible to grow up 10 years within a day?
Is it possible for this pain to stop eating at my soul?
Denial used to be my strongest weapon.
I am stronger than ever. I am broken down to ash.
The cigarette between my fingers brighter than ever.
Smoke rising, dancing, swirling.
As if to juxtapose the reality of my being.
Falling, stagnant, atrophying.

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