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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1698463
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Other · #1698463
Where can someone hide from himself.
Who am I? Call me death. call me decay. Depravity is my name; decadence, my native tongue. I am the forgotten parts of you, and the darkened cracks of sanity's demise. Call me degradation, for that is all I am to you.

I died once. It was a long time ago, and that is another story. For now, I'll tell you what you wish to know. I was once like you. You're asleep in your mind. And you're ignorant of the world that lies in front of you. Not the one you see, but rather the one you don't. Do I dwell within? Of course. I always have, and I always will. You cannot get rid of me, just as I cannot be rid of you.

You and I are sewn together in a way you will never understand. I am you. You forget that. I am your mother; your father. I am everyone, and everything. To you, it's all material things that you can taste, see, and touch. You're incorrect. It's more than that. I am more than that.

You push me away with your thoughts of good will and righteousness, but you cannot slight me. I'm always there in the shadows. You can hear me in your dreams. You hear me calling in the silence of your darkened room. Give in to me, and I will show you a world like no other.

Do you live, or do you exist? You exist. I will bring you to life.
© Copyright 2010 J. M. Kraynak 10th Year at WDC (valimaar at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1698463