So there I lay. Stone cold and faded to the black. My world as numb and the pain engulfed me. As hard as i tried --hoping the pain would flow with the tears-- I couldn't cry. My eyes were as dry as bones. Whitewashed, ancient bones. I was closing in. I was near my last resort. I played every heavy chorus I could recall over and over and over until my fingers looked slaughtered. My knuckles were torn and dotted with blood blisters from taking my rage out on the wall. My hand was cramped from writing and over a hundred failed lyric attempts surrounded me. It was already 3 a.m. and I was alone. Music pulsed from the speakers; I allowed myself to drift into the intro. Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, it hit me again. Sure, it wasn't very long before the next song started, turning the page to a new chapter in my living hell, but it was there. And it pierced me like a spear.
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