ABYSS

 "Happiness feels a bit hazy

Smiling is nothing but a formality

Even whispers now feel noisy

Days pass full of agony


Running away looks like the only solace

From the demons, my mind weaves in its embrace

My body consists less of flesh and bones and more of indifference

Tasks of once high stature now hold little significance


Looks like I'm left with no choice

Not that anyone would be affected by my premature demise

However, one question makes my actions cease

Is there anything called committing suicide with some grace?"

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