Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Painted In Gold - 17. I Could Only Dream
I’ve risen through the light of day,
Pushing and pulling through the darkness.
Climbing through shit and mud,
I breath in clean air and for the first time
I bathe in a blissful existence.
Having no concept of time or space,
I take my time,
Making it last.
Only, of course, it doesn’t.
Falling and falling,
I cry into the night as
A cloud of dust surrounds me
In a brown aura.
Now I could only dream of my
Once blissful existence.
Now I could only dream of my
Lungs full of clean air.
My all consuming fantasies plague my existence,
Leaving me tired, but full of hope.
Hope of seeing day once more.
Hope that is never fulfilled.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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