Realizing that all of your life has culminated up to this point.
I am at the end of my rope.
This candle burned at both its ends. The wax then burned my tethered hand.
No time for what I want. I am bound to a behavior that I have chained myself to.
Learning to see art. To make it, but not feel it.
I try to feel but it hurts.
It aches to want them.
It's incessant and it yearns.
I'm trying to fill an empty space within myself.
But I'm throwing pebbles into a black hole.
I couldn't say what I needed to and now it's much too late.
The next one won't get away.
I will someday claw at the feet of a man who could bring me back to life.
I am twenty one, I am dead and I have nothing to barter with.
But I can sacrifice my old self to a higher power in a bottomless pit.
I will chant the name of the omnipotent beast and I will be made whole, and beautiful.
I will be queen, and I will reign.

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