Life is fleeting. My twenty third draws near. I step timidly into the darkness. My vision blurred, untrusting of my instincts. Boldly, but without fear, I press my fingers into the void. Behind my eyes, the mechanical. I try to differentiate the dream from the day. Morning pallor. I notice the cracks and paint over the impurities. The wind assaults and carries the sun on its torrent. Gray lingers in the cool, casting the evil twin. I ponder this life; the beauty, the mercy. I question existence. I question decay. I wander into hypocricies, and fight myself for the answer. Listless until then, when the burden was inflicted. I know now.
Life is fleeting.