Photographs and memories
I'm looking at your photos, it became customary. With each click, with every picture, a new cry. The music is your music playing in the background. Clothing, which was your clothes as sacred garments.
The appreciation of life was gone, the desire to continue to be killed and concern for myself was suddenly pulled. Now you, only you, what you're doing, where you'll now what you're thinking, what will be dreaming ...
more empty than before, almost like a zombie.
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