My mind was once immaculate,
but
It seems I've been falling apart for a while now,
and I no longer bother to repair the growing cracks.
I can hear them, telling me that if I don't choose to live, I'll be ruined.
I have now had some time to think,
and perhaps I want to become a ruin.
Broken and irreparable.
Left to become a sad story,
left to crumble,
and turn to dust.
