The cry is waking,
once again, buzzing uncontrollably.
No more l lights at the end,
The end of one many tunnels.
No. more. lights.
Not another word, hush my darling.
Keep walking, moving dainty feet one by one.
With strenght, with love,
grasp a hand fiercely. Grasp it well,
and pray I, that it is mine the one you hold,
with such lack of tenderness.
Nauseated by the coming waves of scent,
bitter and stale,
like any other white room.
You will not be the first one.
Dull glances, knowing the hand,
that you reached for, frangile fingers spasm...
Can no longer feel you.
Adjusting, to the weight, the freedom,
the everything around you.
It was not my hand you held.
But hush my darling.
Be still, be quiet.
Forever.
Search for your lights, at the end of the one many tunnels.
And grasp my hand,
and tell me it will all be allright.
Just keep looking forward.
---
A/N: For you, with all my love.
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