Devil besides me sits and laughs. Instructs me to self abort. He is always feeling jealous , envious of other's life and successes. But he doesn't understand me. I'm not like them. I don't want to play this juvenile games. It tires me. But still he goes on beating me with canes , always making me self aware. But there isn't much energy left in me. I'm tired of all this world. Done with it, he is encouraging me as though I was once a victim and he is thirsty for vengeance but he doesn't know his driver is stupid. He always clashes onto the wrong lanes.
Confines of the essence. Giving a scent of changing effervescence. When nothing makes sense. Going feral trying to construct bounds, building a big fence. But the effervescence of the changing seasons marks the end. When the fervor melts. Thing which once were started to lose its essence. A sense of dread seems to have no end. Every last relic of the ever present's presence's remains absent. Everything goes in shambles. Trading the places with the one who writes fables. When an instantiation becomes the writer. It couldn't end all the things which were. Depth of an instantiation fall short off the essential. Their impacts aren't pivotal. Only a reminder of a power. Which could be harnessed by the unjaded.
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