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7/05/2012

#Friday Fictioneers



Decay

It’s another morning and the wind keeps swirling across the plains. He ruptures the fibers of earth and tells a tale of adamant goodbyes. I am a branch and I lie broken. The world is waste as the soil, turning fallow beneath my soles. Everything I touch turns grey. I am a pitiful creature, I should have warned you, my friend. I can never be unbroken. It’s another morning, and the wind cuts through the sea of bones. The darkness subsides, yet not in my heart.