Where Words Weep and Time Remembers
- LECTURAS 22
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- Partes 5
I've forgotten my name, since the last person who muttered it was dying in front of my eyes.
I've forgotten my purpose, wandering through the lands with only survival in my thoughts.
I've forgotten all, yet I still crawl under the graying skies, still surviving.
What for ?
Maybe for this little ball of fur I found in a decrepit cabin deep in the woods, barely hanging on under the restless power of the winter storm.
Or maybe for this unknown person whose Everwritten book I now held in my hands.
The Everwritten that held the story of her life, her joys and grievances. The book born from the words that appeared on her body, etched into her skin while she was alive.
I'm sure they were all happy words.
Unlike mine.
Vagabond.
And now...
Death.
❆❆❆❆❆
Trigger warning : thoughts about suicide
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