Dismal be The Headless
Dismal be The Headless It is dismal, this place. The walls have degraded with each passing day. I no longer feel it is my home. I feel my own skin wishing to retreat from my bones. I am alone in the empty space I call home. Settled with spiders, roaches, and more. The floors are covered in the dreary existence of debt, of soul, heart, and wealth. I don't know, but I pray someone may come and help. But I am poorly suited for company. The least I can do is dust off this shelf. Be presentable in at least a moment. For a moment I can hold it together. Keeps myself from fluttering away like a feather lost in wind. There must be a way I can step up and win. This place is riddled in filth. I now walk on stilts. In fear of touching my own ground. Beneath this miserable pile of sludge, underneath it all, is my crown. But I gave it up long ago, I turned over my crown to the day I let myself down. I could feel myself drown. As I flailed for my crown. Out...