Test

Dark, and darker yet. The cells enclose me. Firm, and firmer yet. The bars linger in my eyes. Dead, lifeless, and yet deader. The man lays down, and *plop*. The event encloses my mind, trapping me in the embrace of awareness and distil. The body lays firm, forever trapping me in the forethought. The disappearance of life lays there silently – purified in death, as I was purified to the extent of awareness in my situation. No. There was nothing else in my mind but its scramble and denial. No. My life is dead.

Dark, and just darker. The sight of freedom is barred. No hope, no dreams, no joy. None of it remains with me, laying here to accompany me, where any aspirations for them can only sweep into the cracks of enlightenment. It is barred, drenched in the sweats of sorrow, and away from my life-longing hands. No. It has been long since I’ve given up. No. Life, I said, there is no hope for me.

Time rides the wind of life I knew no more. Yet, I never knew how to cry for it, or to yearn for it again. To fall upon me: that is a dream so very far away. Tell me, I say, what can you do then. I’m trapped. I’m lonely. There is nothing more I can say. Each day, hints of freedom come, and then get taken away soon after. Bars after bars befall me. Chains after chains zoom past. What can I do? Oh, right. To dominate, as that is what I do best. Dominate, dominate, and dominate. Control power, and yearn for more power. But what does power give me? What can it do for me who is so lifeless and dead behind these bars?

No matter how long, how much…how…and what I wish, no incarnate of freedom will appear. There is no desire, for there is no manifestation, no existence, and no life.

I am helpless. Tell me: this is slow. A life of sorrow should befit no one but me. And no one thereafter but no one. Understand that it is here where it thrives. In a place of misunderstanding, and a lack of love; I’ll die, dumb god, I’ll die! As each day bores after the next…I’ll die! As I control more and more prisoners…I’ll die! As I garner hatred and then for the evermore…I’ll die! Dear, dumb god, I cave. I crave you. Give me hope till the time I may see a tomorrow: A day for me to see the logicality of connection. And god, tell me, why I am here. At the breaching point where life gives me no sorrow. Just despair: bleak, and bleaker yet. Father, pray, give me love, for the light may shine on me tomorrow. Give me language, hope, and meaning, in the room of draught. Nay, guard: why must you still run? For fear? For anger? Pray, can you see the new me? Still. You may. Guard me, hey. Guard, here. Here.
Guard, let me free.
Falsified Murd–
Let me be.
Here.

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