Despair

The vulture that was work did not notice his downward spiral and inward screams of pain, instead carried picking away at what was left of his battered and bruised carcass. “One day,” he thought as the last remnants of his sanity evaporated to nothing. “I’ll look back and ask myself ‘was it worth it?'”

Today can be summed as: Standing precariously upon an old wooden chair, the hangman’s noose around my neck. The sun shines and a gentle breeze kisses gently my face, though my mind is too focused to appreciate it. Any minute now an unseen foot is going to kick away the chair, and as I swing within the last throws of life I’ll think, “What a lovely day!”

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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