I wouldn’t even try to imagine what being inside your hollow brain feels like. Thoughts quietly roaming through the streams, memories jumping from every limb of a tree. Consuming every bit possible makes me want to bleed. It doesn’t say which one to pick, so I choose one, closest to your heart. It has my name at the start, but then it leads to a paper so white, so clean, as if a blank slate is supposed to be seen.
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