
I walked a spiraling staircase to seemingly nowhere.

Sharp whispers, then silence, the pages consume me.

I knocked on your door for hours, hands cold, an empty barn.

In every angel, a demon hides.

The smell of smoke, bridges burning, keeping us apart.

Smoke rises.

Walls thick and high.

Somewhere we once went together, I followed your trail that led to the woods.

A never ending spiral in an empty room.

Pages, pictures and words.
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