My life is made up of nothing but fables. Trapped in a web I have been foolish enough to fall into, or maybe even a web I have woven. I don't know how to escape, but I realize now this is punishment, my little hell. Sometimes I get the urge when I am driving 70 miles an hour down the freeway, to close my eyes and let the cement bring me comfort. Glass tears, metal embracing, blood escaping this body that has held it captive for so long. I yearn for one truth, and I know the cement will never tell me lies.
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