Woorden: Cruel Hand. Prying Eyes. Motions That Lie.

I am caught. There's no way out of an endless existence I created myself. My days are aligned and none too defined. Living and breathing are motions that lie. Endless weeks, end me please. Hours that pass are ours to bleed. I see no end but the end sees me. He knows my face and I'm waiting to meet. This is a cycle so familiar, one that I can not break. Every time that it starts over all this pressure increases in weight.