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 Jan 2019 Solomon
margo
Midnight.
I am lying in my bed, unable to sleep. My head is spinning, like every night. Why should I continue living?
I finally fall asleep, dreaming of the sweet, red blood running down my veins, dripping on my bathroom floor ... drip, drip, drip. Soon, there is a dark, red lake which drowns me ...
I travel far away, to an unknown land. Different from everything I had known before. Slowly, everything around me gets silent and dark.
My mind is finally able to rest. I have waited so long for this moment.
Sweet dreams.
 Jan 2019 Solomon
kiran goswami
The difference between a writer and a reader is that,
A writer plays with words,
And,
Words play with a reader.
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